


Friendship Is A Wonderful Thing

by SnowWhiteKnight



Series: The Many Relationships of Sandor Clegane [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Sandor Clegane Is A Stark Man, Background Relationships, Benjen is found!!, Daenerys/Margaery - Freeform, Eventual Romance, Family Fluff, Finally!! At chapter 56, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, I blame AsbestosMouth, I blame SwimmingFox, Jory Lives!!, Mallory (see FancyKid's A Lightness) - Freeform, Mild Language, Minor Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Minor Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, OR IS IT, Oberyn lives!!, Rickon/Shireen - Freeform, Robb Stark/Jeyne Westerling - Freeform, Robb lives!!, SLOW AF, SanSan is a go - I REPEAT - SanSan is a GO, Seriously it's been 50 chapters and still nothing but fluff and friendship, Slow Burn, Stannis/Davos - Freeform, Sweetrobin/Shireen, Syrio becomes a Stark man, Syrio lives!!, The actual details of beating the White Walkers is AMBIGUOUS at best, Trolljen Stark (Benjen the prankster), Vignette, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-05-14 00:23:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 64
Words: 41,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5722618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowWhiteKnight/pseuds/SnowWhiteKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Show a dog kindness and you will earn its undying loyalty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Offered Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Something I was playing with. No rhyme or reason to it. Most of the chapters are pretty short, not quite drabbles, but close to it. Some are super long though. Inspired partially by [Kallielef's](http://kallielef.deviantart.com/art/Young-Sandor-Clegane-385580728) AU drawing of an unburnt Sandor living with the Starks.

It was the week after _it_ happened. Rickard Stark and his eldest son came for a visit. He heard the whispers from the maids who came in to clean his room. It was a welcome distraction from the pain, listening to them talk, even if it wasn’t to him. On their way to Casterly Rock, they said. _I wish I could go with them. Just to leave this awful place._

His father made excuses for his younger son’s absence. _Bedding caught fire._ He wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. Might have done that one, with the way people would sometimes come rushing to him, he suspected he might have screamed quite a few times. He wanted to shout to the world at the top of his lungs that it was _Gregor._ His brother, his family, his blood. _Gregor did this to me!!_

The pain, oh gods, _the pain._ It would drive him mad. Maybe it had already. He didn’t sleep, only slipped into blessed unconsciousness. The pain. _Why would the gods allow this much pain?_ There must not be any gods. No being of higher existence could allow this much pain to someone so young. _Did Sister feel this? Did Mother?_ His thoughts were melding, his voice was raw. He may have spoken aloud, but maybe it was all in his head.

Then, one day, his head was clearer. The pain wasn’t as bad. Still there, but not _as_ terrible. Every day, it was a little better. Every day, he was a little stronger. Every day was a day closer that he would be able to get out of bed, and not have to worry that Gregor would come to finish the job while Sandor lay there helpless.

It was the day he was able to sit up on his own that he had a visitor.

“May I come in?” an unfamiliar voice asked. Sandor looked up to see a tall boy, nearly a man, standing at the threshold of his room. He nodded and the boy entered. Pulling up a chair, he sat next to Sandor’s bed. “I hear you’ve had some bad luck. Candle fell on your bedding?”

Sandor clenched his jaw, embracing the pain it brought to the burnt side of his face. His father had sworn to beat him if he told anyone the truth, so he nodded fiercely, trying not to cry. The tall boy looked at him solemnly.

“Don’t lie, boy. Wolves are better at sniffing out lies than dogs.” The tone was gentle, but firm. Sandor stared at him, unsure of what to say. “The maester said your voice hadn’t come back yet. So, how about this? One finger for yes, two fingers for no, and three fingers for unknown. Sound good?”

Sandor thought about it, and showed one finger.

“Good, very good. Now,” the tall boy lowered his voice, “the bedding, did it really catch fire?” Two fingers. “That’s what I thought. I heard another story. About a mean, nasty giant of a rabid dog, heard it tossed a pup into the embers of the hearth. Truth?” Hesitation, then one finger. “Figures. Nasty temper on that one. Fought some wolves in the yard a few days ago, nearly took some heads off. Neither Lord Clegane nor Lord Tywin were pleased about that. Ok, next question, would you like to leave this place?”

Sandor hesitated longer, and finally showed three fingers. The tall boy chuckled.

“My father is willing to take you on as a ward. He’s over at Casterly Rock at the moment, but I came by early to speak to you. I wanted to take you from here as soon as I heard what had happened, what _truly_ happened. I have younger siblings, two brothers and a sister. If anyone hurt them, I would kill them. As they would for me. But you...your own family turning on you like that, I can’t even begin to comprehend. It is your choice. Think about it. I’ll come back, say this evening? If you have an answer, great. If not, I can tell you about my home. Regale you with stories of the north.” He laughed. “But whatever your answer is, I’ll accept it. Rest now, Sandor. You’re going to need it.” With that, the tall boy left the room.


	2. Of Course He Said Yes

Sandor spent the day looking out the window, watching the activity in the field below. The farmers were hard at work, plowing the field, getting it ready for the new crop. True to his word, the tall boy returned in the evening, with a plate of food for each of them. He was still in a lot of pain, but he put on a brave face.

“So, what do you say, Sandor?”

**********

It was another month before Sandor was allowed to leave Clegane’s Keep. The maester wanted to keep him there longer, but his father insisted if he was well enough to travel, then he should just go.

“Let the maester at  _ Winterfell _ deal with him,” Lord Clegane said, spitting out the name as if it was poisonous, bitterness and jealousy dripping from every word. Sandor’s face was carefully wrapped in bandages, and he set out with the small band of Stark men and his new friend, Brandon Stark.

**********

Brandon told him stories about the other Starks, how Eddard was too serious for being seventeen years old, how lovely Lyanna was as wild as the direwolf that was their sigil, and how the youngest, Benjen, was too adventurous for any of their own good.

“Benjen is still older than you, so mind what he says, but don’t follow him anywhere unless Eddard or I give the okay. Got it?” Sandor nodded. His voice was still raw and it hurt to speak. “Good. And should anyone say something about your injury that makes you uncomfortable, let me know.”

He spent the rest of the trip listening to stories about the people of his new home, Winterfell.


	3. Meet the Starks...and Jory!

It was odd to be embraced in general. It was even more odd to be embraced by the rest of the Stark family, even the ever stoic Eddard. The older boy smiled warmly at Sandor. “I’ve heard a lot about you, I hope we can be good friends.”

Another boy, only two years older than Sandor, introduced himself after the Starks. “I’m Jory. I’ll show you around, ok? Ask me anything you want, I know all there is to know about Winterfell.” His big grin made Sandor want to grin too, but his face still hurt, so he settled for nodding his head vigorously. “Come on, I’ll take you to see Maester Walys, he wants to take a look at your wound. Then I’ll take you to meet my uncle. He’s the master-at-arms. You’re to join us in training once the maester deems you well enough.”

**********

“Hmm...yes, well, you’ll heal, but it will leave a nasty scar. Your previous treatment of it wasn’t as skilled as it could have been, but never worry. I have just the thing to help.” The man began to apply a pungent ointment to the wound. He chuckled as Sandor scrunched up his nose. “It stinks, but it works. You’ll need to come see me at least twice a day. Three times if you can manage it. This will help the flesh grow back, not completely, but at least you won’t have any bone showing. I’d say that you can join training as early as next month. You’ll have to sit on the side and watch until then, however.” Walys was direct and to the point. Sandor appreciated his honesty, even if the man’s eyes were a bit shifty. The maester at the Keep hadn’t even told him that much. Jory was fidgeting near the door as the maester wrapped Sandor in new bandages.

“Come on! Uncle Roderick is going to start without us!” Jory grabbed Sandor’s hand and the two boys took off.


	4. Sisterly Advice

He watched with a wry grin as Brandon easily beat the young upstart that had challenged him for Lady Catelyn Tully’s hand. Small, beady eyes filled with so much anger and hatred, the boy was older than Sandor, but didn’t act like it.

Jory and Lyanna stood next to him. “Littlefinger must have some large ones to challenge Brandon like that,” Jory said.

Sandor scoffed, “Might have big balls, but Littlefucker doesn’t have the skills to back up his challenge. Did you see the way he moved? Might as well have been standing still.” Jory walked off when Brandon called him over, leaving Sandor behind with Lyanna.

She chuckled, “Yes, well, we aren’t all born natural warriors like you, Sandy.”

“What did I tell you about calling me that?” Sandor growled.

“Don’t get your smallclothes in a twist. No one else is around, besides Jory, I mean, and he’s too far away to hear by now.” Lyanna pointed over to Ned and Benjen who were teasing Catelyn about the would-be suitor, while Brandon and Jory escorted Petyr to the gates. “See? Those idiots are too busy trying to cheer up Cat.”

“Is that what they’re calling it?” He was close with Brandon, Ned and Benjen, but it was only Lyanna and Jory he considered his family.

“She was near tears when she heard Petyr’s challenge. She blames herself. Listen, little brother, and listen well. Sometimes the only way to get a woman to smile, is to be an ass. Not mean, just an idiot.” Lyanna clapped a hand on his shoulder. “One day, you’ll meet someone who will love you, and you’ll be glad for my advice then.”

“Not likely,” he said sourly. The women of the village only looked at him with pity, and the girls with disgust. At age ten, he had no illusions on having anyone fall in love with his “pretty face”.

“Hey, come on. Somewhere out there, there is the perfect girl for you.” Her voice was soft. He knew she hated it when he was down on himself, but he couldn’t help being a realist about it. The news that his brother had been knighted and then of his father’s death hadn’t helped his view of the world. Being with the Starks or Jory calmed the rage he usually carried with him.

“You’re the only female who can look me in the eyes, Lee, and you’re my sister. Setting aside our stations, I can’t marry you, that’d be gross.”

“Ugh, yeah, that would definitely be weird. I guess we lucked out that Father betrothed me to Robert.” Lyanna was looking at the ground studiously.

“You are unhappy with the match?” Sandor had thought it would make her happy, since Robert was a family friend and known for his jovial nature. She didn’t know him well enough to know the man was a blowhard, but at least he wouldn’t be cruel to her. It could have been much worse.

“I have doubts on his fidelity. Ned says he’ll be loyal once we’re married, but…” Lyanna trailed.

“Robert’s an idiot,” Sandor said suddenly. “He clearly doesn’t know you, even with being friends with Ned for so long.”

Lyanna chuckled. “Yeah, that gift he sent the other day was _interesting,_ to say the least.”

“The man sent you flowered perfumes from Lys. Clearly he doesn’t know you prefer to the scent of horseshit to flowers.” Lyanna’s love of horseback riding was common knowledge, and it had amused Sandor to no end when he saw the present she had received.

Lyanna covered her mouth to hold in the laughter, “At least he’s trying. You’re such an ass!”

Sandor grinned, “Gotta practice for my future wife.”

Lyanna wiped a tear from her eye. “Tell you what, you can have the perfumes. Save them away and give them to her on your wedding day.”

“No woman of mine would want it.”

Lyanna smirked, “I wouldn’t bet on that, but I have to get ready. We’re leaving for the tourney at Harrenhal tomorrow. You and Jory be seeing us off tomorrow, won't you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 2/10/2016  
> I mathed wrong, Sandor should have been 10 in this chapter, not 11.


	5. The First War

He knew it would bring disaster but Lyanna refused to listen. Women in love rarely do, he learned. He found her putting supplies in her saddlebags, her horse cobbled to the lone tree outside of Winterfell near the Kingsroad. He had found the letters she had been writing to the prince in her fireplace for nearly a year, most of them burnt, but enough was left of the most recent one that he knew he had to find her quickly. He threatened to drag her back and lock her in one of the towers until she came to her senses. She dared him to do it, that she would escape no matter what. He could not stop her, she told him. No one could. She caught him off guard while he tried to think of a way to convince her to stay, and tied him to the tree. He watched as she rode off into night to meet up with the man who had stolen her heart, crying for his sister to come back. Ned and Benjen found him the next day.

He waited for Brandon and Lord Rickard to return, they were due back within the week, so that he could tell them himself. Ned agreed, though Benjen wanted to ride after her himself. They could organize the Stark men and go after Lyanna and the prince. The news reached Lord Rickard and Brandon before they even made it to Riverrun. Sandor cursed the fact that he couldn’t have ridden after them.

The day Eddard and Robert went to war was the day life for Sandor changed again. After Lyanna had left with Prince Rhaegar, Lord Rickard and Brandon died at the hands of King Aerys providing the catalyst for Robert’s rebellion against the crown. He was twelve, almost thirteen, but nearly as big as Ned and Robert, and had proven himself to be an apt fighter. Jory rode beside him, his brother in arms. He killed his first man before his nameday arrived, fighting alongside his friends and the man Lyanna had run away from. He killed many men before it was over and done with, tapping into the rage he felt towards his brother, towards the people who shunned him, towards Lyanna for being so foolish. He was good at killing. The other Stark men started calling him The Hound, for his ferocity and tenacity in battle. The three dogs that were his sigil didn’t help. He half hoped and half dreaded coming across Gregor on the field, but fate did not grant them a meeting. He just wanted his sister back.

He returned to Winterfell nearly a year later with the other Stark men, after the siege of Storm’s End was lifted. Ned was on the trail of Lyanna and would return after. Jory’s father, whom Sandor didn’t know as well as Jory’s uncle, and several other bannermen went with him. Thirteen years old and he had seen more than his share of blood and violence. They were greeted by the new Lady Stark and her newborn son, Robb. Catelyn was warm to the others, but her greeting to Sandor was chilly at best. He knew she didn’t trust him, though he had never given her cause to doubt his loyalty to House Stark. 

The news of Lyanna’s death hit him hard when the rider came in the night. She was his sister and he mourned her as he waited bitterly for Ned’s return. Jory took it even harder. Sandor had suspected Jory had feelings for Lyanna, but he had never spoken of it. Sandor suggested they take their agitation outside. Several of the wooden dummies in the training yard were found in splinters the next morning. 

He said nothing about the bastard son Ned brought back with him, though it would be a lie that the look on Catelyn’s face when presented with the babe didn’t bring a small smile to his lips. He did the math, and knew there was no way the boy could have been sired by Ned. They had been on the battlefield with no camp followers or other females anywhere within a decent distance, but there was no denying that the boy had Stark blood. He had his suspicions, but kept them to himself. If Ned wanted everyone to believe the boy was his, then who was Sandor to question that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the rules I set for myself is that I have to try to follow the characters' personalities as closely as possible. Lyanna was a stubborn woman, and I don't think even her brother Sandor could have stopped her. Sandor is able to prevent some of the deaths, but not all of them.


	6. A Pox Undeserved

Sometimes he would venture into the nursery to visit Robb and Jon, whom he had dubbed “the twins”. Catelyn wasn’t very keen on it, but Ned reminded her that Sandor was just as loyal as any other Stark man, and could be trusted. She still grumbled, but only when he got close to Robb.

The boys were two years old when Jon came down with the pox. He was put in a separate room from Robb and Sandor spent a lot of time with him there, speaking softly to him. He listened to Jon’s ragged breath and he wanted to hold him, but the maester said it was better for him to lay in the bed, so he only held his hand. Catelyn would often appear at the threshold, watching him with Jon.

“What are you saying to him?” she asked.

“To stay strong. His time in this world is not done yet. How his brother would miss him. How I would miss him. Telling him stories that Brandon once told me,” Sandor replied, not turning to look at her. She had a hard time looking at his face anyways.

“You care for him? Why? He’s a bastard of a lowborn woman.”

“Not his fault he was born. Blame his parents, if you must, but he’s just a child. Innocent. He’s a good boy. They both are. You know that, Lady Stark. I saw the wreath you made for him. I don’t know what prayers you made, but you wouldn’t make that if you didn’t believe he does not deserve this. I only hope you really meant those prayers.”

She said nothing, and he heard the angry swish of her skirts as she walked away. A few days later, Jon began to get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't actually remember if this is canon in the books, but I really liked it in the show when Cat is talking to Talisa about the wreath.


	7. The Day The Bells Rang

He was sixteen when the little lady was born. The bells rang all day in celebration, crying out their joy.

He waited with Ned and Jory, outside of the bedchamber as the new maester helped Catelyn through her second birthing. Jory had to leave for his watch before the septa brought her out, cocooned in a soft little blanket. Ned cooed to his new daughter as he held her, “Welcome to the world, my little Sansa.”

“Septa Mordane, would you please come back in here, I need your help,” Maester Luwin called out. His voice held an edge of panic. Ned stiffened and wordlessly handed his daughter to Sandor before following the septa.

Sandor stared at the now closed door to the bedchamber, then down to the babe in his arms. Nervousness set in. _Oh gods, what if I drop her? What if I crush her? Why would he put her in my hands? Killer’s hands?_ The septa came rushing out, but ignored Sandor’s attempt at handing her the newborn.

“Just sit with her,” she hissed at him, as she returned with more servants. He gulped and looked down at the little girl. He trudged over the long seat in the room and sat down, careful to not squeeze her too tight. The twins, as he referred to Robb and Jon, were always screaming for one thing or another, but this little one, she was relatively calm despite just being born. He wondered at that, if she would always be such a little lady, or would she be like her brothers, like her aunt? He couldn’t quite picture it. He was startled when she blearily opened her eyes and locked those Tully blues on him. He wanted to believe she was smiling at him, but the wet nurse for Robb and Jon had told him babies don’t smile, that it was just gas. Still, she was calm and so very small, he let himself believe that smile was just for him and not gas after all. She yawned, her little mouth making little smacking noises as she settled into Sandor’s arms. Her hand had gotten loose from the blanket. Sandor poked it curiously, trying to get it back under the warm wool. Infantile instincts kicked in and she gripped it lightly. He chuckled when he saw that her tiny hand barely fit all the way around his finger. Everything about her was just so tiny. He didn’t remember either of the twins being like this.

“You’re like a little bird,” he whispered to her.

He sat there with her, in a daze, but also with a calm he hadn’t felt since he first met the Starks. This little life in his arms was precious, and he swore to keep her safe.

**********

He swore when the screaming babe was going on three hours without showing any signs of stopping. The little bird was unhappy with something, and was letting everyone know about it. It was late, and nearly half of Winterfell was being kept awake. Ned wasn’t helping, as he was walking her around the castle, trying to soothe her. Catelyn followed behind him. They were taking turns holding her, but it wasn’t doing much good. Sandor and Jory were trailing behind them. Maester Luwin had given the little bird a tonic, which was supposed to have started working almost immediately. After listening to her stomach, he said that the tonic had indeed worked, but the reason for her continued fussiness was unknown.

“Oh, I can’t walk any further,” Catelyn said. She still hadn't fully recovered from her scare during Sansa's birth, and Sandor knew she was ignoring the maester's orders by being here. “She just won’t calm down.”

“I can go a bit longer,” Ned said, though he looked dead on his feet. “I’ll take her to Maester Luwin again.”

“Give the little bird here. I’ll take her to Maester Luwin.” Sandor noticed the wariness in Catelyn’s eyes. He sighed, “Jory will accompany me, won’t you, Jory?” Jory did not look pleased to be volunteered but nodded.

Ned handed Sansa to Sandor. He murmured to her, rocking her slightly as he walked away from Ned and Catelyn, “There now, little bird, I’ve got you. We’re just going to go visit the nice maester.”

To everyone’s astonishment, most of all Sandor’s, Sansa’s cries lessened with each step, until she was sleeping peacefully in Sandor’s arms.


	8. Bastards Are People, Too

“Sander,” Robb said, looking up at him as he held baby Sansa. Jon was next to him, sucking on his thumb.

“What is it, pups?” he asked in a low voice. She still had trouble sleeping, even though her first nameday was fast approaching, and he didn’t want to wake her. He had been walking with her for nearly an hour to make sure she was deep in her dreams. He sometimes wondered what babies dreamed of.

“Is Jon a basser?” Robb asked.  _ He means bastard, _ Sandor realized.

His eyes narrowed. “Where did you hear that?”

“Mudder said it.”  _ Of course she did. _ “What’s a basser?”

“A bas-tard,” he said, enunciating the word as he sat down in a chair, “is one whose parents were not married when the babe was born. That doesn’t mean he is lesser than you, though, so don’t forget. He is your blood and you both owe each other your love and respect as family. Unless one of you betrays the other,” he said thinking of Gregor, but then his thoughts shifted to Lyanna as he looked at Jon. “But, you should still give each other a second chance, if you can. Just remember, just because he’s a bastard and you’re not, doesn’t mean it’s alright to treat him badly. Got it?”

Robb rolled his eyes. “Yeeesssss. Can we hold Sana?” he asked. Jon had crept forward and was trying to peek at the baby.

“Maybe later,” Sandor replied.

**********

He pulled Ned aside after dinner. “Can I speak to you alone?”

“Of course, let’s adjourn to my solar. Shall we?” Ned asked and led the way. 

Once there, Sandor began without preamble, “I think you should tell Lady Stark the truth about Jon.”

Ned looked surprise. “I don’t know what you mean…”

Sandor scoffed, “You know _exactly_ what I mean. Anyone who was with you in the field and had enough sense to figure it out knows what I mean. Look, I know you think you’re doing the right thing, but that boy is the last we have of… He needs a mother. And Lady Stark is _not_ going to be the mother he needs so long as she  _ believes  _ what you told her. Is that what you think Lee would want? Is that what you think Brandon and your father would want?”

Ned fell silent for several moments, deep in thought. He shook his head. “I made a promise...but...what you say is true… You will say nothing to anyone else?”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, Lord Stark,” Sandor said with a half-smile. Ned chuckled.

**********

He heard voices in the boys room. “I’m so sorry, little one, I’m so sorry…” he heard a soft voice say.  _ Lady Stark. _

“Is ok, mudder,” Robb’s voice said. “Right, Jon?”

“Yes. Is ok. Soft hugs…” Jon’s voice was drowsy. “I like your hugs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sandor will not tolerate Ned's hangups. Do it right, or face the consequences! Lol


	9. Bruthers Are Mean!

A dripping wet set of naked twins were running amok in the halls of Winterfell, having just escaped their bath and were on a mission. Three year old Sansa was the target. “Saaaann-saaaaaa!” the boys cried. She shrieked in terror when she saw them and took off in a flash, running as fast as her chubby little legs could go.

“Come give brothers a hug!” yelled Jon happily. Sandor rolled his eyes. The twins loved to tease their little lady of a sister. Catelyn couldn’t keep up with them, as pregnant as she was with the newest Stark, and it was up to the others to keep them in line.

She spotted him after he waved and raced towards him. He had been through this many times before, the twins being little hellions nearly all the time now, and knelt down as she launched herself into his arms. He towered over the twins as he stood up, the little bird safely in his arms as he scowled at them. The hellions merely smiled back at him and reached up for their sister.

“Will you two give it a rest already? Look at what you’re doing to poor Sansa,” Ned said, as he and Jory weren’t far behind them, but even they had trouble keeping up with the two energetic boys. On cue, Sansa sniffled and buried her face in Sandor’s shoulder as the boys were taken back to their bath.

“Saaan-dee,” she cried, not quite able to pronounce Sandor. “Bruthers are meeeeeannn.”

He patted her on the back, “There now, little bird, I’ve got you. They just don’t know how to play with a little sister, that’s all.”

She sniffled again and hugged him tight. “I stay here. I safe here.”

Catelyn had waddled up and reached for Sansa, “Come with me, darling, Sandor has duties to attend to.”

“Nooooooo!” she screamed, hugging him tighter. He cringed from the volume. “San-dee protect me! I marry San-dee!”

“Sansa!” Catelyn said, shocked from the announcement.

“I marry you. Right, San-dee?” she asked, suddenly shy. He chuckled.

“Sure, little bird, as you wish, but you really should go with your mother now,” he said, knowing she would most likely forget about it once she got older.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Sandor, you sweet summer child...


	10. Let's Go to Pyke

“You’re leaving tomorrow?” Catelyn asked in desperation. Sandor was sitting with the children. Robb and Jon were making a castle of sticks while Sansa was making a flower crown. She had already made five for the as yet unborn baby. They were in the godswood, sitting beneath the heart tree. Ned and Cat were speaking off to the side. The children were ignoring their parents, but Sandor heard every word.

“If I could wait until the babe was born, I would,” Eddard said softly. “Robert needs the strength of Winterfell. The Greyjoys are not to be trifled with. I’ll return as quickly as I can, I promise. Jory will be staying here with Ser Rodrick to protect Winterfell and you and the children. You will be safe.” Ned embraced Catelyn. “I will return.”

“And who will keep you safe so that you do return?” she asked sullenly.

“San-dee will!” Sansa said happily, placing the flower crown on his head.  _ Guess she was paying attention after all. _

“Yes, Mother,” Jon said. “Sandor will keep Father safe.” Robb nodded along with him. Catelyn glared at Sandor, but nodded before turning back to Ned.

**********

“If you dare let anything happen to Ned, don’t even bother coming back,” Catelyn hissed at him. The army of Winterfell was about to depart and the Stark family, among others, were seeing them off.

“Cat…” Ned started, pulling her off to the side to speak to her. Sandor merely shook his head. The twins and Sansa ran up to him.

“Sandor! Are you going to kill anyone on the battlefield?” Robb asked.

“Of course he is!” Jon said, “He’s a warrior and warriors kill people in battle. Right, Sandor?”

“Yes, pups, I will most likely kill people in battle,” he said with a grin. He was going to miss these two.

“But, you come back, right? Right, San-dee?” Sansa asked, her lower lip quivering. The twins looked at her, then each other, and finally back to Sandor. They hadn’t considered that.

He knelt down to be at her level. “Do you want me to come back?” he asked. 

He knew her answer would be “yes”, but he didn’t expect her to throw her arms around his neck and sob, “Yeeesss! I’mma marry you. You hafta come back!”

He froze for a moment, unsure of what to do, but she was crying so hard, he gave in and wrapped his arms around her. “Enough of that now, little bird. I’ll miss you, too. And I’ll be back. I promise. You know how I feel about promises and vows.” She pulled away enough to look him in the face and nodded. He wiped the tears from her eyes. “Now, be a good girl. Your brothers will protect you in my stead, won’t you, pups? No terrorizing your baby sister?” He turned to the twins, who nodded vigorously. “See? And I’ll bring you something. Just so you know I was thinking about you, too.”

She sniffled and nodded again. She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and gave it to him. A small red bird was embroidered on it, not particularly well, but he could at least tell what it was. “Septa Mordane says ladies givva favor to their knights as good luck. Muther helped me, but I dinn’t tell her what it was for. Yor not a knight, yor better, so I give you this. Oh! An this!” She stood on her tiptoes and placed a kiss on his burnt cheek. “Septa Mordane says a kiss is good luck, too! So now you have double luck!” She smiled happily at him.

Sandor was a little choked up from emotion. The whore he visited in Wintertown had said she would miss him, but he hadn't really believed her. Sansa, on the other hand...he managed to kiss Sansa’s forehead as thanks before he had to join the rest of the army. The twins hugged him as well before running off with Sansa in tow to say goodbye to their father.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost had Sandor stay behind, but it was pointed out to me that while he's the unofficial Stark babysitter, it would make more sense for him to go, since he's still on the path to becoming the battle hardened warrior we all know and love. Thank you, SassyEggs, for keeping me on the straight and narrow! :D
> 
> Coming up next time! The return from Pyke and the new ward of Winterfell, Theon Greyjoy!


	11. Battle A Squid; Return With A Ward

The battles were long and grueling. He felt like he was half dead as he fought day after day. The Ironborn were not skilled warriors, but they were tough and determined, and it took a lot to kill them. Every night when he went to sleep, he half expected to not wake up again. It was similar to when he fought in Robert’s rebellion, but this time he knew someone was waiting for him. Three someones, to be precise, even if she was just a child of nearly four years, and the twins were just wanting to hear tales of the war, but it helped. He was able to focus, his sword seemed lighter, his aim truer. Or maybe that was the fatigue talking. Either way, the Ironborn were dead men. He had made a promise. He would come home.

He was not privy to the negotiations between Robert and Balon Greyjoy, but the entirety of the Stark men knew soon enough. They were taking a hostage, Balon’s remaining son, as a ward of Winterfell. The other two sons had been killed in battle. He didn’t really get a good look at the boy until they arrived back at Winterfell, and he was presented to Lady Stark and the children.

The Greyjoy boy was welcomed by the Stark children, though Sandor did not appreciate that Theon’s attitude towards Jon turned cold once he learned he was a Snow. He may have enjoyed the look of fear Theon had when he saw Sandor’s burns a bit too much because of this. 

Sansa ran to greet him, despite her mother’s pleas to act more ladylike. He thought he was going to be choked to death, she hugged his neck so hard. She kissed his cheeks and said she knew he would keep his promise. He got another death hug when he presented her with a seashell he had found on her name day. It was small and delicate, and had looked out of place on the grey shores of Pyke. It seemed perfect for her.

Catelyn presented Ned with the child born in their absence, a little girl named Arya. Ned held embraced his wife tightly, then held his new daughter. “She looks like Lyanna,” he whispered. Sandor thought it was too soon to tell, but then the babe’s mouth did that little half-smile he was used to seeing on his sister, and had to agree. He wondered if it was gas.

The Greyjoy boy grew lenient much too quickly for Sandor’s liking, however, when he saw that little Sansa had no fear of the scarred warrior. Theon joined Robb and Jon in the training yard, though Theon was old enough to practice with the men and see Sandor spar. He was even given an opportunity to spar with Sandor himself. He left the yard with a healthy fear of the Hound.


	12. Storytelling And Buggering Knights

Catelyn was pregnant again. The twins and Sansa “took care” of Arya under the watchful gaze of the wet nurse, Old Nan, Sandor, and Septa Mordane, with Theon sometimes hanging around. The wet nurse ignored all of the adults. Old Nan couldn’t remember who he was half the time, and he and the septa had come to an understanding. He wouldn’t curse and she wouldn’t preach at him. 

They didn’t always keep to their understanding, though he was proud to say he was the better of the two of them. At least until the children started mimicking him. Sansa was easy enough to bribe with lemon cakes, but the boys were more stubborn and more than once he had to make good on his threats if they repeated his colorful language. 

Septa Mordane would often read them the fanciful tales of knights and their ladies, while Nan would tell them the tales of the North, of Beyond the Wall. Sansa had stars in her eyes after the tales of the knights. Robb was the one who asked, “Why are there so few knights in the north?”

“The customs of the North do not recognize the ways of the South in this matter. Ser Rodrick is an exception. If Sandor Clegane had grown up in the South where he was born, instead of here at Winterfell, he would have become a knight.”

“Bugger that,” he sneered. “I spit on knights and their vows.”

“Language!” Septa Mordane said, horrified. The children just giggled. Sansa got up from her spot on the floor and went to sit in Sandor’s lap.

“I still like you, even if you…” she looked over to the septa, who was beginning another story. She beckoned him to come closer and she whispered in his bad ear, “Even if you spit on knights. Because yor Sandor! An’ yor the bestest!” She grinned and hugged him.

He smiled back at her and returned the hug. It was still one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 26  
>  Catelyn - 25  
>  Robb - 6  
>  Jon - 6  
>  | Sansa - 3  
>  Arya - 1 | Sandor - 19  
>  Theon - 11  
>   
> ---|---|---


	13. Horsey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. Will upload another one later today.

Jon insisted on being carried by Sandor on his nameday. He wasn’t sure how a twenty year old became the official Stark babysitter, but he had somehow accomplished it, much to Catelyn’s ire. If Sansa was his favorite Stark, Jon was his second (he refused to think of him as a Snow), though baby Arya could possibly be a contender for second place, since she was already exhibiting mannerisms like Lyanna, even at such a young age.

Sansa and Robb followed after Sandor like little ducklings as he carried Jon on his shoulders throughout the castle. To his great amusement, they started quacking and tucking their arms to their side as “wings” when he remarked on it to them. Jon loved it and joined in. Theon Sourface followed as well, but Sandor knew it was because he wanted to be around Robb, and not because he wanted to join in the merriment.

“Someday, I’mma be as tall as you, Sandor!” Jon proclaimed after the ride was over. Sandor just chuckled as he handed the boy the wooden horse he had gotten him as a present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 27  
>  Catelyn - 26  
>  Robb - 7  
>  Jon - 7  
>  | Sansa - 4  
>  Arya - 2 | Sandor - 20  
>  Theon - 12  
>   
> ---|---|---


	14. Baby Brother, Not A Sister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two short chapters make a big chapter, yes?

The bells rang loudly for the birth of the newest Stark. Brandon was already the apple of his mother’s eye and he was only a few days old. Ned held one year old Arya up to meet the new baby, while Sansa peeked around her father’s legs. Sandor stood outside the door, waiting to talk to Ned. The twins were over the novelty of a new baby and were out playing with Theon. The boy was still standoffish to Jon, but Robb defended him and that was good enough for Sandor.

“Mu-ther,” Sansa said, “Is the baby a boy?”

“Yes, my darling. Why do you ask?” Catelyn looked tired still, but happy.

Sansa pouted. “Now there’re three boys, only two girls! Can the next baby bea girl?”

Catelyn laughed. “I’ll try, darling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 27  
>  Catelyn - 26  
>  Robb - 7  
>  Jon - 7  
>  | Sansa - 4  
>  Arya - 2  
>  Bran - newborn | Sandor - 20  
>  Theon - 12  
>   
> ---|---|---


	15. A Shield, A Realization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Update  
> :)

“Today is your nameday, Sansa. What would you like as a present?” her father asked her at the breakfast table. She was five years old, and looked like a miniature version of Catelyn, right down to the dress she was wearing but without all the hostility Lady Stark could hold in her eyes. 

She scrunched up her face in intense thought. “I want...for Sandor to be my shield!” She smiled up at him. “Will you, Sandor? Pleasepleaseplease? It’s all I want!”

Ned looked over at Sandor, a very tall twenty-one year old. He shrugged. “As you wish, little bird,” he said, hiding the doll he had gotten her behind his back.

Later, Ned pulled him aside. They sat on a bench, watching Sansa show off her presents to Jeyne Poole amidst the small feast being held in Sansa’s honor. The doll wasn’t allowed in anyone’s hands except Sansa’s. “You sure you want to be a shield? She’s only five. She won’t need a formal protector for several more years.”

“Ned, I don’t mind. I’ve been watching over her for years. Might as well make it formal now. Maybe Lady Stark will stop fussing over how much time the girl spends with me.” Sandor still had yet to win any of Catelyn’s approval.

Ned laughed. “She’ll come around eventually. I hope. No one else doubts your loyalty to the Starks, and especially to Sansa.”

**********

“How come Sansa has a shield and we don’t?” Robb asked Ned one day. The family was taking a rare picnic near the Wolfswood. Sandor and a few other men were with them as guards. Theon was with them as a trainee.

“You don’t really need one,” Ned replied.

“Neither does Sansa,” Catelyn retorted. Sansa frowned but the twins nodded vigorously.

“Yeah! Why does she get one if she doesn’t  _ need  _ one?” Robb asked.

“It’s only fair,” Jon added. 

Ned gave Catelyn a look that said  _ Why?! _ To the twins he said, “Sansa is a lady, and unable to defend herself as you two have been taught. Besides, she asked Sandor. Nicely. And he agreed.”

“Well, why can’t she just learn to fight then? Like us?” Catelyn was horrified, but Ned just gave her another look,  _ This is what you started. _

“She can’t learn to fight, she’s a lady!” Catelyn exclaimed.

“What do ladies learn then?” Jon asked.

“Well, for instance, embroidery, etiquette, singing, managing a household…” Catelyn listed. 

“What?! That’s useless!” Robb said. Ned smacked him. “Well, it is! Most of it. What happens if someone tries to hurt her? Sing the attacker away? Ask nicely that he ‘Please would you go away’?”

“That’s what Sandor is for,” Sansa said stubbornly. “It’s why he’s with me constantly.”

“But what if he  _ can’t, _ for whatever reason. There’s multiple attackers, or something. Shouldn’t you be able to defend yourself, as well? The gods help those who help themselves,” Jon pointed out. “Shouldn’t she learn at least  _ something _ ? She’s only five, but we started learning when we were seven.”

Ned looked at Sansa, and then Arya, realization dawning in his eyes as Catelyn continued to argue her points.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 28  
>  Catelyn - 27  
>  Robb - 8  
>  Jon - 8  
>  | Sansa - 5  
>  Arya - 3 | Sandor - 21  
>  Theon - 13  
>   
> ---|---|---


	16. Catelyn Puts Her Foot Down

Sandor sat with Jon in the training yard. Robb and Theon were sparring at the moment, Ser Rodrick overseeing the exercise. 

“If you twist as you attack,” Sandor was telling him, “then--”

“Sandor!!”

They all turned. Sansa was running across the yard, tears streaming down her face. He barely had time to kneel before she launched herself into his arms. He held her as she sobbed. 

“Little bird,” he murmured, stroking her hair, “what’s the matter? Where’s your mother? You were supposed to be in embroidery all afternoon.”

She kept crying and shook her head.

“Yes, you told me you were going to make your first dress. You had a special fabric all picked out.”

She didn't speak, just sobbed all the harder.

“Sansa,” Jon whispered. “Do you want me to go find Mother for you?” She shook her head violently. “Did something happen?”

Sansa did not answer. She just kept crying. Jon exchanged a look with Sandor, both of them were at a loss here.

“Sansa,” Catelyn’s voice came to them. She had a pained look on her face. Sansa gripped at Sandor harder. “Sansa, come here, darling. You are bothering the training.”

Sansa slowly ceased her crying. She looked up at Sandor and then to the other people in the training yard. Sandor pulled out a handkerchief and wiped Sansa's face clean. 

“There now, little bird. All better. Will you tell me what's wrong now?” he asked gently. 

“Sansa!” Catelyn said sternly.

Sansa looked up at him again. She shook her head. “I should…go with Mother,” she said meekly. She kissed Sandor on the cheek before leaving his embrace. He couldn't say why he thought it, but it felt like she was saying goodbye.

“Sansa, I’ll see you after embroidery,” he said. It felt more like a question to him.

She nodded and smiled widely, but it lacked her usual warmth. “Yes, after embroidery.”

Two weeks later, Sansa wore the dress she had made. It was dark grey, almost black. Robb joked that she looked like a silent sister or someone off to become a septa. Sansa smiled, but it was the same fake smile Sandor had seen in the training yard. She still refused to tell him why.

Jon spoke with him after dinner. “Finally got Jeyne to talk. She said that Sansa picked a color Mother refused to let her use. She forced Sansa to exchange it after they left the training yard that day. Something about it being inappropriate for a lady of her rank. That it would make people think wrongly of her. Jeyne didn't hear all of it.”

“I would think it be the cut of a dress that would do that. What color did she pick?”

“Jeyne wasn't sure, she didn't see it. She thought it might have been light orange or yellow.” Jon shrugged, at a loss for what else to say.

It made no sense to Sandor either. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me. I did add "Angst" as a tag. Technically, "Fluff And Angst".
> 
>  
> 
> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 29  
>  Catelyn - 28  
>  Robb - 9  
>  Jon - 9  
>  | Sansa - 6  
>  Arya - 4  
>  Bran - 3 | Sandor - 22  
>  Theon - 14  
>   
> ---|---|---


	17. Arya To The Rescue

“Sander,” the little voice said. “Why’r you in mud?”

“Hush, wolf girl, and get down,” he whispered. Four year old Arya immediately squatted down in the mud next to him. It had been the only hiding spot big enough for him, and was unfortunately also the place where the maids had dumped some dirty water out from cleaning. Arya had no qualms about getting down and dirty, as opposed to Sansa, who tried to stay clean as much as possible.

“What’re we doing?” she asked in a whisper.

“Trying to figure out what’s bothering your sister. She’s been depressed for nearly a month now.” He gestured over to where Sansa was sitting with Jeyne. The other girl was talking animatedly, but Sansa didn't look like she was paying much attention. “She won’t tell anyone why. I think your mother knows, but she’s not saying anything either. To her credit, she’s tried to cheer Sansa up, but it’s not working.”

“I ask,” she said, getting up and walking over to the two older girls.

“Get back here!” he hissed. Arya ignored him.

He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Arya was gesturing wildly. Finally, she pointed over to where Sandor was hiding. Sansa looked over with wide eyes, surprised that she hadn’t noticed him. She patted her sister’s head and headed over to Sandor. “We’re jus worried, Sana!!” Arya called out.

He stood up as she got closer. She looked him up and down, covered in mud from his hiding spot. “You’re really worried, aren’t you?” she asked quietly.

“Of course. We all are,” he said, then added, “I don’t like seeing you so sad. Tell me, little bird, is there anything I can do?”  


Her eyes glistened a little, but she shook her head. “No, there isn’t. I wish you could though. I just...I had to learn an unfair truth. I’ll try to do better, Sandor.” She smiled up at him, a genuine smile that released the pressure on his heart that he hadn’t even realized was there. Arya came running up and hugged her sister from behind, leaving muddy hand prints on Sansa's dress. Sansa merely sighed and turned around to return the hug to her sister. "Thank you, Arya."  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is one of my favorites, so there will be another extra update for it! I'm just super impatient and I don't want to wait two whole days for the regular schedule. It's also one of the longest chapters of this story. Generally, most of the chapters happen after an extended period of time from the previous one, so the events I wrote were so close together, I made them into one super-chapter. Stay tuned for tomorrow, Wednesday! Regular update schedule will resume on Thursday.
> 
>  
> 
> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 29  
>  Catelyn - 28  
>  Robb - 9  
>  Jon - 9  
>  | Sansa - 6  
>  Arya - 4  
>  Bran - 3 | Sandor - 22  
>  Theon - 14  
>   
> ---|---|---


	18. The Trouble With Whores

Sandor had the afternoon off. Not that you could really tell. Sansa was still there, braiding some long grass blades into a little crown, humming to herself. Her nameday was approaching and she was making the crowns as a lead up to it. 

_ I really need a hobby. Or a trip to Wintertown. Maybe visit Mallory… _ She was one of the few whores that didn’t flinch when they saw his face. And she made him feel like a king when he visited her.

He scooped Sansa up. She was too old for it, but he sometimes missed holding her as he did when she was a baby. She never complained about it, so he didn’t see the harm. “Where are we going?” she asked. 

“To your mother, little bird. Time for your lessons anyway, and I have to go see someone in Wintertown.”

“May I come, too?” she asked. “Please? I’ll be good.”

“Trust me, little bird, it’s not a trip for a little lady such as yourself.” She huffed a little. “I’ll bring you back something nice, ok? No sad faces. Deal?” She thought about it seriously, sighed melodramatically, nodded in extreme seriousness, then grinned and wrapped her arms around his neck to hug him. He was glad she wasn’t in her depressed state anymore, but he had an odd feeling she was keeping a distance, despite her affectionate nature. Sometimes he would catch her staring into the distance with sad eyes.

**********

Jory went with him, and laughed as they left the brothel. “You have to bring her back a gift?”

“Nothing big, maybe a hair comb?”

“You know she’s going to be devastated if she ever finds out you regularly visit a brothel. And once she learns what one is,” Jory said as they headed to the small merchant area. “The gods help us that day.”

“What? Why?” he asked in genuine confusion.

Jory looked at him in surprise, then laughed again. “You poor blind fool,” he said, and refused to say anything else on the matter, but would look over at Sandor every so often and start laughing all over again.

**********

“Sansa.”

She turned away from him, her little chin jutting out adorably.

“Sansa,” he stepped in front of her. She turned her head the other way, but he captured her chin and gently forced her to look at him. It wasn’t difficult. She wasn’t mad, just upset. He was determined to find out why. “Look at me, Sansa.” She did, but she made a huff about it and it amused him to no end. He wanted to laugh, but that wouldn’t help right now. He steeled his features and said, “What’s wrong?”

_ “Nothing.” _

“You’re making a lot of fuss over nothing,  _ girl.” _ She frowned. He knew she hated it when he called her that.

She huffed a little more. He could be patient. Being a caretaker of this many Starks required it. Jory was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He managed to muffle his laughter, but Sandor could still see his friend’s shoulders shaking with mirth. It was making it harder to take this situation seriously. He made a note to get him back later in the training yard.  _ Any moment now, she’ll start chirping. _

“Mother said you were going to go see a woman in Wintertown,” she said finally.

“A woman?” he asked in confusion. He only went to Wintertown to see a woman for one reason and...oh. Even Jory had realized what she was referring to and had ceased his laughter. Sandor wasn’t sure, but he thought Jory was mouthing  _ I told you! _ Sandor just glared at him.

“What did she say about this woman?” he asked carefully.

“That she was the most likely candidate to be your lady wife,” Sansa said, her lower lip pushed out in a pout.  _ Damn it Catelyn. _ “But you can’t get married! You have to stay here as my shield! You have to protect me! I can’t lose you like this!” she suddenly sobbed and threw herself into his arms. He had been her shield for nearly two years now, and the most dangerous threat to her had been Theon with his unwelcome kisses.  _ Why would she believe she needs me when she’s so safe here? _ he wondered. 

“Sansa, I’m not going to marry her,” he said.  _ Mallory’s not wife material anyway. _ She pushed away from him enough to look up at him with a tear streaked face.

“You’re not? Promise?”

“I promise. I’ll always be here for you, to protect you and keep you safe. Do you believe me?” She nodded and wiped her face with her hand. He handed her his handkerchief. She daintily cleaned herself up, though she still made a slight honking noise when she blew her nose. He smiled at that. “Now, did your mother tell you that directly?” Sansa looked down at her feet guiltily. “You were eavesdropping, then.” She looked up at him sheepishly and nodded. “Well,  _ that _ is very unladylike. As the person who watches over you, I am burdened with administering punishment as well.” Her face fell. She was really making this too easy. “So…you will have to help Arya with her etiquette lessons today.”

Her scream of horror let him know she wouldn’t be doing any more eavesdropping and was worth the splitting of his eardrums. Jory did not agree.

**********

He and Sir Rodrick were trailing behind Lord and Lady Stark as they toured Wintertown with their children. “We have some new recruits coming in next week,” Sir Rodrick said. “Would you be willing to train with them the first two weeks?”

“Why not ask Jory?” Sandor asked, noticing that Sansa was distracted by a food stand that had lemon cakes and had fallen behind the rest of her family. Jory and another man-at-arms kept up with them, so Sandor wasn’t particularly worried about their safety. He shook his head as he saw her eyeing the sweets.  _ Honestly, that girl… _ Though he knew he would ultimately end up buying her one and telling her not to tell her parents.

“He’ll train with them as well, but you have a knack for getting them to buckle down, despite your youth. I’d like to groom both of you to become the next master-at-arms. Lord Stark will have the final say, of course, but I think both of you have potential.”

Sandor chuckled. “I appreciate the thought,” he said, noticing that Mallory and another whore were standing very close to Sansa at the food stall. They hadn’t noticed the girl, but Sandor suddenly had a bad feeling. “I do have my hands full as Lady Sansa’s shield, however,” he said, just as Sansa started screaming at Mallory.

_ “Don’t say that about him!! Take it back! Take it BACK!” _ she shrieked, pounding her small fists against Mallory’s legs.

“Oy! You little brat! Didn’t anyone teach you any manners?” Mallory hissed and raised her hand, to slap or hit, Sandor didn’t know, but he caught her wrist before she could do anything.

“Sandor!” she exclaimed in surprise, but schooled her features and voice to the honeyed tones he was used to hearing from her. “Come to save me from the little beast?” she purred.

Sandor raised an eyebrow at her. “Keeping my lady from getting hurt,” he said gruffly, letting go of Mallory and turning to Sansa. “Lady Sansa, what happened?” 

“Lady Sansa?!” he heard Mallory exclaim in horror behind him. She tried to run, but the other whore wouldn’t let her.  _ It’s useless to run, idiot, _ he heard her hiss at Mallory.

Sansa was crying, her eyes were red and she had forgotten her manners by wiping her nose with her sleeve. She sniffled and said meekly, “She was saying... not nice things about you.” She looked uncomfortable that all eyes were on her at the moment.

“Clegane, should I go get Lord and Lady Stark?” Sir Rodrick asked. Mallory yelped.

Sandor grimaced, but said, “No, I don’t think it’s necessary right now, but if they head back in this direction, flag them down.” He turned back to Sansa. “What did she say that pushed you into hitting her? You know violence isn’t the answer for you.”

Sansa sniffled again. “I...I know...but she said...she said you were a stupid fool to believe her sweet words. And that she didn’t even have to use half her charm to get the best coin from you. The other one said she shouldn’t speak that way of a regular, so she’s alright. But then this one laughed! She laughed at you!” Sansa turned to Mallory, the rage back on her face. “You’re the stupid fool! Sandor is the best and he deserves every bit of respect you can scrounge up, you lying...lying…” She scrunched her face up and then said the worst insult she could think up,  _ “whore!” _

Sandor wasn’t sure whether to be flattered she was defending him, angry that Mallory had duped him so completely, or amused that Sansa’s worse insult was Mallory’s actual profession. The other whore laughed. He shook his head and smiled fondly at Sansa, who was still glaring at Mallory. “Lady Sansa,” he said softly. She turned to look at him, fear and shame in her eyes. He knew she didn’t regret her actions or words, but was fearful of his reaction. “Thank you for defending my honor,” he said with a barely suppressed smile. “Go with Sir Rodrick. I will settle things here and catch up in a few moments.” She returned his smile with a shy one and nodded.

In a staged whisper, she said, “Don’t kill her though, she’s not  _ worth the effort _ of cleaning her dirty blood off your blade.” A final glare at Mallory and Sansa haughtily walked off with Sir Rodrick to join her family. 

“Sandor...I…”

“Give it a rest, Mal. Suffice it to say, I will not be returning for your services.” Sandor turned to face her fully, his anger extremely evident on his face. Mallory shrank back from the Hound a bit. He leaned forward to whisper harshly in her ear, “However, you tried to strike my lady, your liege lord’s daughter. Come near her again, and you will regret the day your father failed to pull out.” He left her speechless as he ordered and paid for lemon cakes for all of the Stark children.

As he walked away, he heard the other whore, Ros, tell her, “I told you so.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope it's ok that I borrowed Mallory again FancyKid!
> 
> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 30  
>  Catelyn - 29  
>  Robb - 10  
>  Jon - 10  
>  | Sansa - 7  
>  Arya - 5  
>  Bran - 4 | Sandor - 23  
>  Theon - 15  
>   
> ---|---|---


	19. Stark Family Prankster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or "Why It's Not A Good Idea To Follow Benjen Blindly"
> 
>  
> 
> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 30  
>  Catelyn - 29  
>  Robb - 10  
>  Jon - 10  
>  | Sansa - 7  
>  Arya - 5  
>  Bran - 4 | Sandor - 23  
>  Theon - 15  
>   
> ---|---|---  
  
“Benjen!” Sandor exclaimed. He hadn’t seen the man since he hightailed it to the Wall after Ned returned from Robert’s rebellion. “Black suits you. What are you doing here?”

“Robb’s nameday celebration. Ned asked me to come. Said it's about time I meet the kids,” Benjen grinned as he embraced his friend. “How are things here? How’re the children?”

“Come see for yourself.” Benjen followed Sandor to the lesson room. Robb, Jon and Theon were learning numbers from Vayon Poole, while Sansa, Arya and Jeyne are learning letters from Septa Mordane. It was Jon who noticed them first. He nudged Robb. Theon noticed next. Arya noticed the boys’ attention was drawn away from the lessons, which drew Sansa and Jeyne’s attention.

“Benjen Stark! As I live and breathe! Come here, boy! Give an old man a hug!” Vayon exclaimed, though he wasn't that much older than Brandon would have been. After embracing, Valon turns to the children. “None of you will remember, but this is Lord Eddard’s younger brother, Benjen. Robb, Sansa, Arya, Jon, he’s your uncle.” The four children got up from their seats to greet him.

“You look like Father,” Robb exclaimed. “And Jon. And Arya.”

Benjen chuckled, “Well, I am a Stark and your father’s brother, afterall. You and Sansa look more like your mother than your father.” He sat down with them, “Now, tell me all about yourselves. And then, I’ll tell you of a great joke we can play on Lord and Lady Stark!”

Sandor shook his head, but couldn’t hide his grin as the children flocked to their uncle. Even Jeyne and Theon found their way into the huddle. Septa Mordane tsked at the joke, but Sandor could see that she was trying very hard not to laugh. Veyon chuckled and returned to his other duties, knowing he had lost the children’s attention for the day.

Later, Sandor managed to hold back his laughter as Benjen “predicted” the personalities, hobbies, likes and dislikes of each child that he “had never met before” to Ned and Catelyn. 

“Knowledge from Beyond The Wall,” Benjen said cryptically, when Ned asked him about it. Sandor had to leave the room to laugh, though Ben eventually told them the truth.


	20. Oss! And Bow

“Sandor, what are we doing in here?” Sansa asked. They were standing in a room of one of the abandoned buildings. The inside of this one had been fixed up and sparsely furnished. The floor was covered in thick, dense mats and various practice weapons adorned the walls. Jon was there, too.

“Your father wants you to at least be able to defend yourself, little bird. Just in case, something happens to me,” he said, raising his hand before she could protest. “You are the same age as your brothers when they first started training, a little older actually. Your mother doesn’t know about this. No one does. Just you, me, your brothers and your father. You’re not going to tattle on us, now are you?”

She shook her head. “But... I...I’m scared. What if I get hurt?” she asked meekly.

Sandor sighed and knelt down. “I would never lie to you, you know that.” She nodded. “There is a possibility you may get hurt, but if it’s a choice between getting hurt in practice or getting killed in a real situation, then I think I’d rather you get hurt here. Once Arya is old enough, she’ll be receiving these lessons, too. Fair?” She nodded again, sullen but wouldn’t argue with him. “Alright then, you’re going to need to change into these clothes. Won’t do to mess up your nice dress. Jon and I will wait outside until you finish changing.”

She let them know once she was done. Ned had had the clothing specially made, breeches that were hidden by the skirt of the dress, the arms were looser around the shoulders, to give more range of motion.

“Alright, Jon is going to play the part of the attacker, then we’ll switch to me. We’ll go slow at first. If you don’t understand something, just ask. In future lessons, Robb and your father will join us to help give you a variety of body sizes to fight against. Jory may help as well. Basically, your father wants you to be prepared in as many instances as possible. You will not be learning to attack, just how to defend, but you will learn how to hit someone and how to take a hit. Are you ready, little bird?”

She didn’t look ready, but nodded. “I am ready. I trust you, Sandor.”

She did rather well, keeping her fears tamped down during her lesson, and listening attentively so that she could react appropriately. Ned came in for a while to watch and see how she was doing. Later, after her lesson and once Jon and Ned had left, she curled up in Sandor’s arms and cried her fears to him.

“It’ll be ok, little bird. This is for your own good. I’ll be here after every lesson if you need to cry about it again. Hopefully, you will never have to use these lessons, but it eases your father’s mind, and mine as well, to know you will have this knowledge.”

“It does?” she asked. He nodded and wiped away her tears, glad that she had calmed down.

“I’m doubling my own efforts as well,” he said. She looked up at him curiously. “I’ve been training to fight groups, larger and larger groups. Ever since Jon pointed it out two years ago. At the time, I could maybe handle five men. Right now, it’s up to ten. Switching between fighting one man to ten is difficult, but not only am I benefitting from it, so are the warriors of Winterfell. Ser Rodrick is extremely pleased by all of our progress. So see, you’re not alone in this. As one of the Starks of Winterfell, you have all of its power standing behind you.”

She nodded solemnly. “I will do my best to not disappoint,” she promised. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 31  
>  Catelyn - 30  
>  Robb - 11  
>  Jon - 11  
>  | Sansa - 8  
>  Arya - 6  
>  Bran - 5 | Sandor - 24  
>  Theon - 16  
>   
> ---|---|---


	21. The Last Time The Bells Tolled

The bells rang again. Sandor stood at the door of the master bedchamber, watching his charge and her family. Maester Luwin and Septa Mordane stood with him, waiting to finish caring for Lady Stark. Rickon Stark was the last child born to Lady Stark, though they did not know it at the time. He was born with a head full of wild locks that only Jon had had. All of the children greeted their new brother, at Ned’s insistence, though all the boys and Arya wanted it to be over and done with already. Sansa stayed behind as the others rushed off to go play before lessons started.

“Mother, may I hold him?” she asked politely.

“Of course, darling. Remember, support his back, neck and head.” She handed Rickon over to Sansa. Ned curled up to his exhausted wife, whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Sandor felt a slight pang at the sight, knowing that he would never have such a moment for himself.  _ What woman would want the dreaded Hound as a suitor, much less a husband? _

“He’s beautiful, Mother,” Sansa whispered. Sandor watched her with Rickon. The patience and childcare she learned from helping with Arya and Bran was being reflected. He smiled to himself. She had only learned it because she had insisted on being around him when he was roped into helping by Septa Mordane.  _ She’s going to be a wonderful mother someday. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is approximately 9 years old in this scene. Should I just start listing the ages in the end notes?
> 
> Edit: Adding ages, as requested. To tell the truth, I get them a little fuddled so I constantly have to remind myself how old everyone is. X_x' Since I don't know exactly when all these characters were born during the year, the ages might be off by a little bit.  
> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 32  
>  Catelyn - 31  
>  Robb - 12  
>  Jon - 12  
>  | Sansa - 9  
>  Arya - 7  
>  Bran - 6  
>  Rickon - newborn  | Sandor - 25  
>  Theon - 17  
>   
> ---|---|---


	22. Reactions May Vary

Arya was more than thrilled to have her first defense lesson. Sansa told Sandor later that she found it amusing the difference between her reaction and Arya’s to learn about the lessons. Sandor just shrugged and said, “You’re different people. It’s ok to have different reactions.”

He was impressed with the speed Arya adapted to the lessons, though he reflected that he shouldn’t have been surprised. She was more like Lyanna than anyone had ever guessed, though without the ability to still be ladylike when it was needed. In that regard, it would be Sansa who was more like Lyanna. Their temperaments were similar, though Sansa’s courtesy was more refined, thanks to Lady Catelyn, and her wolf nature didn’t rear its head very often, unlike Lyanna.

“Courtesy is a lady’s armor,” she told Arya. “You really ought to learn to control your temper at least.”

“I don’t want to be a lady,” Arya whined. “I want to be a warrior. Like Father.”  _ Hmmm...should talk to Ned about that. Defense lessons are fine, but this one might need offensive lessons as well. _

“Then be a lady warrior. No one will be able to touch you then,” Sansa said. They were sparring against each other today. Arya was playing the attacker, which she was rather good at, Sandor noted. She lunged for her sister with a mock roar. Sansa shrieked, but she managed to remember what to do and Arya went flying past her into Jon.

“Little sister, if you keep announcing where you plan on going, Sansa’s not going to learn much,” Jon chuckled.

Arya dusted off her training clothes determinedly and said, “I’m trying to throw her off balance. She still reacted, even with me screaming, so she’s still able to learn. Not everyone who attacks her is going to be quiet like  _ you, _ Jon. Or you, Robb. And if Sandor did that, she’d likely faint from the force of his bellows alone. So really, it’s up to me to toughen her up.” Arya put her hands on her hips with authority. 

Everyone laughed as Sansa snuck up behind her sister and caught her in a spinning hug in revenge, Arya's short legs nearly hitting Robb in the head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less)  
> Ned - 33  
> Catelyn - 32  
> Sandor - 26  
> Theon - 18  
> Robb - 13  
> Jon - 13  
> Sansa - 10  
> Arya - 8   
> Bran - 7  
> Rickon - 1


	23. I Am A Prisoner, Not A Guest

Theon was sitting on a barrel, watching Robb and Jon practice their swordplay. Sansa and Arya were practicing their embroidery with their mother and a few other women. Their defense lessons would be later that day and Sandor was considering introducing small weaponry into those lessons. It was something to discuss with Ned later, but for now, Theon should be practicing his own swordsmanship.

“Tired already?” Sandor asked him.

“No, not physically. It’s just...I don’t understand.”

“Understand? Understand what?” he asked Theon.

“Robb asked me why I wasn’t happy that my nameday celebration is coming up soon. How am I supposed to be happy when I’m a prisoner of Winterfell?”

Sandor stared at him. “You’re a ward of Winterfell. Same as I was. Not a prisoner. Prisoners don’t get their own rooms in the castle.”

“You chose to come here. Chose to stay and become a Stark man. I didn’t. I’m a prisoner,” Theon insisted. “I can’t go back home. Ever.”

Sandor sat quietly for a few moments. “Most wards are not consulted before becoming one. It’s something their parents decide,” he said. “I was given a choice to come here, or stay at Clegane’s Keep. If I had stayed, I would probably be dead right now, by Ser Gregor’s hand. It wasn’t much of a choice but I chose this, and I have never regretted it. Can you really say your stay here has been so awful?”

Theon grunted, but made no other reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less, the same as previous chapter plus a few months)  
> Ned - 33  
> Catelyn - 32  
> Sandor - 26  
> Theon - 18  
> Robb - 13  
> Jon - 13  
> Sansa - 10  
> Arya - 8  
> Bran - 7  
> Rickon - 1


	24. Step Down/Back Off

“You should step down as Sansa’s shield.” Catelyn was quite blunt for a lady, when she wanted to be, Sandor noted.

“Lady Stark…” he started.

“No! It is unseemly! You are sixteen years her senior, and she hangs onto you like a lovesick child. She is fourteen, nearly fifteen!” Catelyn said harshly.

He sighed. “Lady Stark, of all the men in Winterfell, who is the best warrior?”

She looked away, her frown set firmly in place. “You are,” she said grudgingly.

“Of all the people in Winterfell, who does she listen to the most?”

Catelyn huffed and said, “You. You have too much influ--”

“I always encourage her to do the right thing,” he pointed out. “And do you know how much Ned pays me to stay and be a warrior for Winterfell? A shield for Sansa?”

She shook her head. “Probably the same as Jory, since he’s captain of the guards.”

“Lady Stark, he pays me room, board, and a small stipend.”

Her head snapped up so quickly, Sandor thought it was a wonder it didn’t separate from the rest of her. “That can’t be!”

“You can check with Ned if you’d like, ask to see the castle ledgers. Being Lady Sansa’s shield is an honor. I do not require much in the way of payment. She is my friend as well as my charge. I would die for her, Cat. Never doubt that. Ever since the day she was born, I swore I would keep her safe. If you still feel I should step down, then I will, but I will never stop protecting Sansa, nor will I stop being her friend.”

She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room. Later at the evening meal, she caught his eye. It was the first time Catelyn Stark had ever looked at him with anything other than contempt. He might even call it respect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time jump!  
> I honestly have no idea how a sworn shield is compensated, so I kind of just made stuff up. He protects her because he loves her, though it's not quite at _love_ love yet. 
> 
> Ages (More or less)  
> Ned - 37      
> Catelyn - 36  
> Sandor - 30      
> Theon - 22  
> Robb - 17      
> Jon - 17  
> Sansa - 14      
> Arya - 12  
> Bran - 11      
> Rickon - 5


	25. Black And White

A horse trader had travelled to Winterfell, and the Stark brood were just as interested as the rest of the smallfolk. Robb, in particular, was looking for a new horse, something to train in warfare. Arya was curious if any of the horses would be a good match for her. Her thirteenth nameday was three days away, and Ned had agreed to get her a pony as her present. Her mare was too gentle for her tastes, not surprising, considering the age of the horse, and she wanted one that would keep up with her need to race with her brothers. Sansa, Bran and Jon had no interest in buying horses, but they were curious in general. Rickon was too little, and stayed with Catelyn. Sandor followed along, of course. He was somewhat interested, and Ned had said he would pay for one if Sandor found one he’d like. “The least I can do since you won’t let me pay you higher wages,” Ned joked.

The horse trader showed several potential choices to Robb and Arya. Ned had given Sandor a bag of coins if the children found horses they wished to buy. From the weight of it, Sandor estimated that there was enough to buy two horses for every Stark, though he fully intended to haggle the man down as low as possible.

Robb was inspecting a young stallion when another suddenly charged him. There was a fence separating the black stallion from the others but Robb was still wary. Another smaller horse was in the pen, this one was as white as the other was black, and much more calm. Sandor judged them to both be about two or three years old.

“What’s that one’s problem?” he asked the trader. Sandor walked over to join the two.

“Wild stallion got to one of my breeding mares. That’s the result. Twins. He’s a wild one. His sister is calm, but refuses to be separated from the other. No one’s been interested in him because he tries to bite, charge or kick anyone who comes near him.” The trader sighed. “Well, there’s one man interested. I don’t want to sell to him, but at this rate, I might have to.”

“Oh?” Robb asked. “Who in their right mind would want this beast?” Sandor silently agreed. Anyone who wanted this horse would need a lot of patience to deal with him.

“Ser Gregor Clegane,” the man said, not noticing the sharp intakes of breath and looks of shock and horror on the Starks faces. They were all well aware of the man related to Sandor by blood. “He liked the viciousness of the animal, but I’m afraid he won’t have the temper to break him in properly.”

“I will take him!” Sansa exclaimed. “I will take both of them.”

“Little bird…” Sandor warned her. She looked up at him with her soulful eyes.

“That _monster_ is the worst kind of person there is,” she whispered to him. “I _cannot_ let these innocent creatures fall into his hands, not if I can help it. Even one as surly as the black one.”

Sandor sighed. “You’re such a soft touch,” he said, but he was smiling as he shook his head. “Alright, I’ll bargain for them. I’m only getting you the calm one though.” She started to protest, but he continued speaking. “I’m getting the black one for myself.”

They left the horse trader with four less horses an hour later. Arya had found a mottled colt that suited her, and Robb found a brown horse that was perfect to train for battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less)  
> Ned - 37  
> Catelyn - 36  
> Sandor - 30  
> Theon - 22  
> Robb - 17  
> Jon - 17  
> Sansa - 14  
> Arya - 12  
> Bran - 11  
> Rickon - 5


	26. It Begins

Sandor sat with Sansa and Arya as they awaited the return of Lord Stark and the small party he had taken out to deal with a deserter of the Night’s Watch. 

“Oh, look! I think I see them,” Arya said, squinting at the horizon. Sure enough, Ned was leading the men and boys back to Winterfell. Bran dismounted from his pony first and ran excitedly towards them.

“Arya, Sansa! Look at what we found!” Bran said, pulling his cloak back and revealing a small wolf pup hidden in his clothing.

“Is that…?” Sansa asked, her eyes wide with wonder. “A direwolf cub?” Arya hopped around with glee.

“Yes, there’s one for each of us, even Jon!” Bran said. Robb, Jon and Theon had caught up to them by then. Arya and Sansa were each handed a pup. Robb tousled Arya’s hair before going off to find Rickon. Arya held the smaller of the two grey pups. The one in Sansa’s hands was wriggling and whining. The pup jumped from Sansa’s hands to the ground, causing the girl to yelp. Arya just rolled her eyes, handed the light grey pup to Sansa and took off after the other one. She returned with the dark grey pup quickly, having caught it easily enough.

Ned joined them after handing his horse off to a groom. “You’ll have to raise them well,” he told the girls. “None of the servants will be allowed to take over your duties of caring for the wee beasts. Understand?”

Both Arya and Sansa nodded in excitement.

Later in the godswood, Sandor sat with Sansa, Arya and Bran in front of the heart tree. “What are you going to name her?” he asked. The light grey pup was nestled in Sansa’s lap, enjoying some scratches behind the ear. The pups had just finished their feeding.

“I think...Lady. Do you like that name?” she asked the pup. The pup yawned widely and turned three times before settling down and sleeping. Sandor laughed.

“Lady is a fine name for this girl,” he assured Sansa. 

Arya giggled. “That’s such a  _ proper _ name.”

Sansa scowled at her sister, but Arya only laughed more. 

“Mine is called Nymeria!” Arya exclaimed, lifting the dark grey pup high above her. Nymeria growled, but it was more of a protest from being lifted so high than anything else. 

“What about you, Bran?” Sandor asked.

The boy didn’t answer. He was staring at the silver-grey pup in front of him.

“Bran?” asked Sansa.

Bran said in a small voice, “I don’t know.”

“I’m sure you will come up with a good name,” his eldest sister said with a smile.

“One worthy of such a good pup,” Arya chimed in.

“And do not worry if it takes a while,” Sansa said. “You will find the right one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy St. Patrick's Day to those of you who celebrate it! I'm not Irish at all, but I wore a little bit of green today. :)
> 
> Ages (More or less) The past few chapters and the next are happening within the same year, just some months apart.  
> Ned - 37  
> Catelyn - 36  
> Sandor - 30  
> Theon - 22  
> Robb - 17  
> Jon - 17  
> Sansa - 14  
> Arya - 12  
> Bran - 11  
> Rickon - 5


	27. Jonquil And Stranger

Sansa’s white horse needed little training, and even took to Lady when the pup was introduced. She had decided on naming her Jonquil. Sandor laughed at that. She would forever be dreaming of her songs.

“As long as you don’t expect me to name mine Florian,” he joked. Sansa blushed.

“Of course not. You always said Florian was not someone to emulate,” she said in mock haughtiness. “You are not one for hypocrisy either, so no, I did not expect that.” She couldn’t keep a straight face any longer and broke out into a grin. “What are you naming yours? You never said.”

Sandor stared at the beast as he brushed out the mane and the black coat. “Stranger.”

Sansa’s eyes went wide. “That...is blasphemy, and yet...it fits him well.” Sandor nodded. The black horse snorted and stamped his feet in impatience, though Sandor knew the stallion was enjoying the brushing. The grooms refused to go near him as he was likely to bite and kick anyone other than his new master. It had taken more than a month, and then even longer to train him, but he and the horse had come to an understanding. The only other person Stranger would allow near him was Sansa, since Jonquil had bonded with her, and Sandor had made it clear that she was not to be harmed. Lady and the other direwolves was accepted by Stranger as well, though he suspected it was Jonquil’s influence on that one. Sandor was glad his little bird had such a soft heart. He wouldn’t have found his warhorse otherwise.

They walked through Winterfell with the horses. Sandor noticed Catelyn hurrying along, a missive in her hand. She looked concerned, though she did stop briefly to chide Bran on his wall climbing before continuing on towards the godswood. _Must be important news._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less) The past few chapters and this one are happening within the same year, just some months apart.  
> Ned - 37  
> Catelyn - 36  
> Sandor - 30  
> Theon - 22  
> Robb - 17  
> Jon - 17  
> Sansa - 14 3/4  
> Arya - 12  
> Bran - 11  
> Rickon - 5


	28. An Offer of Royal Proportions

Sansa stood at the window of the new practice room, her hands clasped together tightly. The old one had been repurposed by Catelyn for the royal visit. She still didn’t know of the girls’ defense lessons, and arguing with her over the use of the room would have brought it to light. Lady lay at Sandor’s feet.

At fifteen years old, she was no longer a child, she spoke and held herself like the lady he had first seen all those years ago, though she was clothed in her training gear right now. They were waiting for Arya, who was in the yard below, chasing Bran and Tommen. The twins and Theon were looking on and laughing. The golden prince was off to the side, sneering at the merriment with his sworn shield, Ser Robert Brax, second son of Lannister bannermen House Brax. The king and queen had arrived a week ago, with the royal heirs, the queen’s two brothers and a myriad of followers in tow. Queen Cersei was beautiful, but she had a coldness to her that made the North seem balmy. A great feast had been held, but the children’s mood was dampened by the fact that Jon was not allowed to sit with them. Catelyn had apologized profusely to Jon, but he had said he didn’t mind sitting elsewhere to avoid offending the royal family.

“Did you hear?” Sansa asked softly. “Did you hear what the king asked my father?”

“The king wants to betroth you to his son, Prince Joffrey,” Sandor replied. “Join the houses as he and Lyanna were supposed to.”

“I do not wish to marry Joffrey. He has lips like worms and beady eyes. Jeyne thinks he is handsome, but he is not very _princely_. Not like the stories. The things he says are just awful.” Sansa often spoke freely in his presence. Her mother chastised her about it, but Sandor didn’t think it hurt to let her. 

“What does your father say?”

“He does not want to either. Mother agrees with him, but neither know how to tell the king.” Sansa turned from the window. “I suppose they could just tell him that they are not ready to part with me just yet. I do not think the king would like it if they told him I do not find the prince agreeable. He has little love for his own son, but that would be beside the point.”

“That might work,” Sandor rasped. He had a bad feeling about that prince, and was grateful Sansa wasn’t enamored by his good looks.

“It is too bad I am not already betrothed, then this whole ordeal would be moot.” She looked sad as she continued to stare out the window. He shifted uncomfortably, remembering her declaration as a three year old. When did he start to notice her as a woman instead of a girl? He couldn’t be sure. She was tall now, taller than her mother, nearly as tall as her father and her brothers Robb and Jon. Sandor sometimes forgot she was only fifteen, she seemed older. In addition, Sansa was growing more and more beautiful each year, and it was getting harder and harder to remember why he had to keep his distance from his best friend, especially during the defense lessons when her soft body pressed up against his hard one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did research to decide who Joffrey's new sworn shield would be! [Robert Brax](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Robert_Brax) is the most likely, I believe. House Brax is one of the more powerful houses sworn to the Lannisters, and as a second son, Robert Brax would have the freedom to accept the position of sworn shield to the prince.
> 
> Ages (More or less)   
> Ned - 38  
> Catelyn - 37  
> Sandor - 31  
> Theon - 23  
> Robb - 18  
> Jon - 18  
> Sansa - 15  
> Arya - 13  
> Bran - 12  
> Rickon - 6


	29. Broken Tower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra update today.

Bran’s wolf’s howls were what brought the other wolves running, and with them, their Stark counterparts. Even baby Rickon was there, clinging to Catelyn’s skirts as she cried hysterically. Arya and Jon clutched each other’s hand, twin faces of silent rage. Theon’s hand was on Robb’s shoulder, Robb’s fists kept clenching and unclenching as he watched Maester Luwin look over Bran. Sansa clung to Sandor as Ned, just returning from the hunt with the king, carefully picked Bran up and took him to his room, Maester Luwin helped Catelyn. Bran’s wolf trailed after them. Robb, Theon, Jon, Arya and Rickon followed slowly, leaving Sansa with Sandor.

“He didn’t slip,” she whispered.

“Little bird?”

“Bran,” she said in ragged breaths, “I heard them say he _slipped._ My brother was more surefooted climbing than I am on the dance floor. _He did not slip.”_

**********

Sandor stood at the door of Bran’s room with Jon. Catelyn was inside, sitting next to Bran’s bed, making another of those wreaths. She looked like she had been awake for the past three days. He knew she had had very little sleep, as Sansa would come sit with her mother and bring her food, though Catelyn didn’t eat much.

“Mother…” Jon said softly. She looked up at him with empty eyes.

“My sweet boy,” she murmured. She set aside her wreath and ran to Jon. He held her as she cried. Jon had become her favorite son in the years since Ned had told her his secret. In turn, Jon had adored Catelyn and emulated her proper (and somber, in Sandor’s opinion) ways.

“Mother, I came to say goodbye to Bran, and to you. Uncle Benjen cannot afford to wait another day,” he said softly.

“Must you go?” she sobbed. “I am already losing Sansa and Arya. Bran is...Maester Luwin doesn’t know if he’ll wake up…”

“Shh...Mother, it is best if I go to the Night’s Watch. If you need me, you’ll know where to find me. Come on, Bran’s going to be cross with you if he finds out you’ve been neglecting your health. Eat something, sleep for a bit. If anything happens, someone will come find you. We’ll stay with Bran until Maester Luwin can come sit with him for a bit. Won’t we, Sandor?”

“Of course,” he said.

Jon gently guided Catelyn to the door. One of the servants was there to take her to the kitchens for a late meal.

“Do you think she’ll be alright?” Jon asked him once Catelyn had left.

“I hope so. For everyone’s sake.” Sandor waited by the door as Jon approached the bed. Maester Luwin joined him as Jon spoke to Bran.

“I wish I could be here when you wake up. I’m heading north, to the Wall, with Uncle Benjen. I’ll be taking the black.” He knelt beside the bed, closer to Bran. “I’ll be waiting for you to visit. You will wake up, Bran, and I will show you around Castle Black, and we will stand at the top of the Wall together. Maybe even go out walking beyond the Wall, if you’re not afraid, but don’t tell Mother or she’ll have both our heads.” A soft chuckle and Jon stood up. He leaned down and kissed Bran on the forehead. “Stay safe, Bran.”

“I’ll see you in the yard,” Jon said to Sandor and left the room.

Sandor walked up to the side of Bran’s bed. His still unnamed wolf was next to him, having snuck in when Catelyn left. How long had it been since the pups were found? It felt like the Stark children had always had them, but it had been less than half a year. The boy before him looked even smaller than usual. Sandor hadn’t been particularly close to Bran, but he knew him well enough and held the boy in high regard.

“Came to say goodbye, Bran. Sansa and Arya are departing with your lord father to the capital, so of course I’ll be going as well. I know your sisters have already been by. Would have come with them, but there was some trouble with some of the Lannister men that had to be sorted.” He fell silent for a few moments. “Jon got sick when he was younger than you once. I sat with him as often as I could. Told him stories that your uncle Brandon once told me when I was stuck in bed. Would have done the same for you, but your mother needed peace for her wreath. Besides, at the time, neither I nor Jon had anyone else to sit with us. You are fortunate that your mother and sister were around,” he said sadly. He looked over at Maester Luwin, who was giving instructions to a servant and not paying attention to Sandor. “Bran, you have to fight. Wherever you are in the skull of yours, you have to fight your way back. Your brothers and sisters are waiting for you. Your pup is waiting for you. He still needs a name, after all.” Sandor brushed the hair from Bran’s brow. “You’re a Stark. You’re strong. I expect to find you awake when we return to Winterfell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of me wanted Bran to not fall, but at the same time, if he didn't fall, would he still awaken to his greensight? Would any of them? 
> 
> Ages (More or less)  
> Ned - 38  
> Catelyn - 37  
> Sandor - 31  
> Theon - 23  
> Robb - 18  
> Jon - 18  
> Sansa - 15  
> Arya - 13  
> Bran - 12  
> Rickon - 6


	30. Encounter On The Trident

Sansa shied away from the welcome party that met the royal one on the road to King’s Landing. “The ‘king’s justice’ scared me,” she admitted to Sandor later when they were taking a walk by the Trident. “Ser Barristan and Lord Renly were kind, but Ser Ilyn…he frightens me. Lady didn’t like him much either.”

“He is a frightful one. Do you hear something?” he asked.

“Yes...sounds like Arya. Probably practicing swordplay with that butcher’s boy again. Honestly, Father should just give in and let her learn. I heard Lord Selwyn of Tarth allowed his daughter to learn how to fight. Of course, there are the Mormonts as well. Beautiful and deadly warriors. Father could have fostered her with them.” She sighed. “I wish I could be more aggressive like Arya sometimes. Though I also wish she would learn to control her temper better. She’s going to get into trouble with the wrong people one of these days.”

“You’re just fine the way you are, little bird. I do agree about the wolf girl’s temper though.”

Arya’s screams of anger reached their ears. Sansa was off like a flash, Sandor closely behind her. They found the prince drawing his sword on Arya, who was standing in front of the butcher’s boy, defending him as he lay sprawled on the ground.

“What is going on here?” demanded Sansa. They all turned in surprise.

“I was looking for you, my lady, when I came across these two. The peasant was attacking your sister, lovely Sansa,” the prince said quickly. “I was about to defend her.”

“LIAR!” screamed Arya. “We were only playing! We’re practicing swords.” Nymeria was standing by her side, her hackles raised and her teeth exposed in a growl.

“Prince Joffrey, I think it be best if you went back to camp,” Sandor said in a purposely lowered growl. The prince shrank back a few steps, but looked to Sansa.

“My lady, would you like for me to escort you back? I would be most honored,” the prince said sweetly. Sandor narrowed his eyes at him. Ned had accepted the role of Hand, with the condition that Sansa be allowed to get to know the prince before any betrothal was made. Moments like this were just the sort for Sansa to see the boy’s true nature, and it was one that Sandor did not like. 

“Thank you, my lord, but I must stay to see to my sister’s chastisement. We will follow shortly,” Sansa said just as sweetly, ignoring Arya’s indignant cries. The prince frowned, but left without much protest.

“Why do I have to be punished?” Arya whined. “He was the one that nosed in on our practice, and then started making fun of Mycah for wanting to be a knight!”

“Arya, hold out your hand,” Sansa said. Arya whined a bit more, but after a staredown between the two sisters, she did as she was told. Sansa lightly tapped Arya’s hand seven times. “There, if anyone asks, I hit you seven times for your penance. Shall we go back to camp? I hear the queen sent orders to the baker at Castle Derry to bring an array of sweets, including lemon cakes!” Arya rolled her eyes at her sister’s gleefulness, but Sandor only chuckled as he helped the butcher’s boy to his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He lives!!!!!
> 
> Ages (More or less)  
> Ned - 38  
> Catelyn - 37  
> Sandor - 31  
> Theon - 23  
> Robb - 18  
> Jon - 18  
> Sansa - 15  
> Arya - 13  
> Bran - 12  
> Rickon - 6


	31. Let's Explore the Capital!

“So this is King’s Landing?” she asked, looking out of the tower window. Lady and Nymeria were sniffing the new room, oblivious to the humans. “It’s lovely, but it smells weird. A bad weird. Oh, the fashions are so interesting, and the people of the court!” Her eyes were sparkling and he smiled at that. “It’s like a parade every day! Oh, but it’s so warm compared to home. I will have to start making new  _ lighter _ gowns for myself and Arya. Well...tunics for her, and for you as well, of course. I’ll speak to Father about getting appropriate fabrics for this climate. Have you ever been here before, Sandor?”

“Once, little bird. During the war, when your father and Robert claimed the Iron Throne.”

“Do you think Bran has woken up yet?” The boy had been on her mind a lot recently. She had not spoken much of her brother on the way south, but he knew she had been thinking of him the entire time. She still didn’t believe he just fell, and had become paranoid that someone was out to get all of them. She worried over the family left at Winterfell, and even for Jon who was headed to the Wall. “You won’t be far away, right? Father promised me you would have a room nearby.” She looked up at him with those big soulful eyes.

He placed an armored hand on each of her shoulders. “I’m one floor beneath you. Anyone who tries to get to you, will have to go through me first, alright? Don’t worry, little bird, I’ll keep you safe.”

“Sansa! Stop kissing Sandor and let’s go! We’ve got a castle to explore!” Arya shouted from the doorway. Sansa scowled at her younger sister as Arya ran off with their wolves, and didn’t notice how red Sandor got.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Direwolves in the capital. What could go wron-- *CRASH* Oh, Arya... It wasn't the direwolves we need to be wary of, was it? Lol
> 
> Ages (More or less)  
> Ned - 38  
> Catelyn - 37  
> Sandor - 31  
> Theon - 23  
> Robb - 18  
> Jon - 18  
> Sansa - 15  
> Arya - 13  
> Bran - 12  
> Rickon - 6


	32. Keeping Busy

“Where are you off to, wolf girl?” Sandor growled, catching Arya by the scruff of her shirt.

“Mycah promised to show me some of the underground tunnels and then we’re going to go see a friend of his on the Street of Steel,” she said. “Let me go! I’m going to be late!”

“You and that butcher’s boy had best stay out of trouble. If Sansa and I hadn’t been around when the prince found you two on the Trident, it could have gotten a whole lot uglier,” he reminded her. She rolled her eyes at him and nodded in pretended meekness. “I’m not joking, girl, you see Prince Joffrey, you walk in the other direction.”

“Ugh, fine, I promise.” 

“Are you taking Nymeria with you? She’s going to stick out like a green boy in a brothel.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “Noooo. Do I look like an idiot? She and Lady are in the godswood with Sansa. They like it there. The  _ queen _ ,” she said with slight disgust, “prefers for them to stay there, too.”

“Sansa went to the godswood?” 

Arya nodded. “She goes there daily to pray, usually in the mornings. Didn’t you know? Oh, right, you’re usually doing your morning training at that time. Well, that explains why she takes Lady, though why Nymeria wants to go is beyond me.  _ May _ I go now?” She looked at him with extreme irritation. “I really am going to be late at this point.”

She was off and running as soon as Sandor let go of her.

**********

“I’m sorry, Sandor,” she said meekly. He had found his little bird right where Arya said she would be, praying in front of the heart tree. He much preferred weirwood, but they didn’t grow this far south. “I didn’t want to interrupt your training time, and this place is just so peaceful, so unlike the rest of the city.” Lady and Nymeria were sunning themselves not far off.

“I suppose you were safe enough, with fucking  _ dire _ wolves at your side, but I don’t like the idea of you coming here alone.” He was more bothered by the fact that she hadn’t told him at all. She looked very apologetic though and he would guess that it hadn’t even occurred to her that he might be upset about it. “Look, I know you went alone to the godswood at home nearly daily, but little bird,” he grasped her hands in his, “this isn’t home, and the people here are dangerous. More dangerous because they won’t come at you with weapons, they will attack you with words, and if you’re not careful, you will fall into ruin because of it. You’ve seen how sharp a tongue the queen has, how she speaks in veiled words.” Sansa nodded. A day in the wheelhouse had brought  _ that  _ to light. Sansa had returned to his side to ride Jonquil the rest of the way down the Kingsroad with great relief, stating that no lemoncake was worth that woman’s company. “If you insist on coming here, then I or you father should come with you, even if you have Lady by your side.” Lady, her eyes closed, rolled over on her back and kicked her legs a little. Sandor shook his head. “Especially if you have only Lady at your side. She’s soft as a kitten!”

Sansa giggled. “She is not! She’s just relaxed because it’s just us and Nym.” Sandor didn’t quite believe her, but didn’t argue, eyeing the light grey wolf with amusement as her tongue lolled out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less)  
> Ned - 38  
> Catelyn - 37  
> Sandor - 31  
> Theon - 23  
> Robb - 18  
> Jon - 18  
> Sansa - 15  
> Arya - 13  
> Bran - 12  
> Rickon - 6


	33. Secret Visit

Sansa fell back against the mat, huffing from the exercise. They had just completed the day’s defense lesson. Arya was at a dancing lesson, of all things, and so it was just him and Sansa for today. Sandor sat on the mat next to her and averted his eyes, trying not to think about  _ other _ things that would make her pant and glow like that. He attempted to distract himself, as well as hide the evidence of his interest in her.  _ King Robert in a dress. King Robert in a dress. _

“Sandor,” she said breathily and he had to bite back a groan.  _ King Robert in a fucking low cut pink and frilly dress. _

“Yes?”

Sansa rose to her feet and brushed off her clothing. “I was thinking of going to the market tomorrow. I finished the new garments I had planned already. The tournament is fast approaching and you need a new doublet, Arya needs a new dress, and I need something to do. Father already gave me permission…” she trailed off. “I know it’s your day off, but I was wondering--”

“I’d be happy to take you to the market, little bird,” he said with a chuckle. “You can take a look around and give me some ideas for your nameday gift as well. If Jeyne and Arya wish to come as well, that’s fine.”

She threw her arms around his neck from behind and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Sandor.”

_ King Robert in a pink and frilly dress acting like fucking Jonquil AND Florian. _

**********

Sandor and Jory joined Ned at one of the brothels Petyr Baelish owned. He was surprised to see Catelyn there, as well as Ser Rodrick. After a somewhat long and drawn out goodbye, Ned headed back to the Keep, Jory and Sandor flanking him on either side.

“We cannot tell the girls of this. Jory, I’ll need you to keep an eye on Arya. Sandor, you have Sansa, as always. Find someone to guard Jeyne. Anyone who can keep up with you two in training. Don’t let them out of your sight. Tell the rest of the household to never go anywhere alone. I'd rather be overly cautious than have to worry about our people.” Ned seemed to have aged in the past few hours. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pushed back the tournament by a few months from when they arrived in King's Landing. I also specifically added that defense lesson in since more than few people asked for it. I'd say I feel guilty for falling under peer pressure, but I like making Sandor squirm a bit. Mwa ha ha ha! Next chapter, the Tourney of the Hand!! It will be a bonus update because I'm so excited for it!
> 
> Ages (More or less)  
> Ned - 38  
> Catelyn - 37  
> Sandor - 31  
> Theon - 23  
> Robb - 18  
> Jon - 18  
> Sansa - 15  
> Arya - 13  
> Bran - 12  
> Rickon - 6


	34. Tourney of the Hand

Sandor was not inclined to acknowledge his brother, but the Tourney of the Hand found him in close quarters with Gregor, especially since they were both competing in the jousting.

“Nice little mistress you got there, pup. Wouldn’t mind being her sword for a night,” Gregor laughed at his own poor jape. Sandor growled at him, but The Mountain merely sniggered and walked on. He touched his wrist. Underneath his gauntlet was a grey ribbon, a token from his charge. She had given it to him and wished him luck in the tourney. It calmed him down to remember it. There was also tonight’s feast to look forward to, since Sansa had made him a brand new tunic for him to wear. He had worn his old red one the previous night. It still looked good, but the new one was even better. He was of the opinion that, if it wasn’t for his scars, he looked rather dashing in it.

Sandor saw Littlefucker in the audience, sitting a little too close to Sansa for his liking. It had not escaped the man’s notice that Sansa was the spitting image of her mother, and even more beautiful. Thankfully, Arya was with her, though Ned had wandered off. Probably had something to do with the king wanting to fight in the melee. Septa Mordane was there as well, but she was speaking to Jeyne Poole on the other side of her and didn’t notice. Littlefucker was whispering to Sansa, causing her to frown, and looking over at Sandor every so often. He wondered what the rat was telling her, but was pleasantly shocked when she slapped him across the face. Arya smothered her laughter and Septa Mordane finally paid attention. He knew what a slap from Sansa felt like, as he had had her practice it on him. Littlefucker would have a mark on him for at least a few days.

After a few angry words from her, the man gave her a meek look that turned predatory when she looked away from him. Ned returned to his seat just then, and Sansa moved to the other side of her father, so that Littlefucker and Ned were now sitting next to each other. Neither looked happy about it, but Ned put a protective arm around Sansa.

Sandor did well in the events he entered, pleased that Sansa was cheering for him, but scowled as the Knight of Flowers gave her a red rose. She accepted it politely, giving it a tentative sniff. It must have smelled nice, because a genuine smile blossomed on her lips. He made a mental note to find an excuse to get her some flowers later. She was wearing the pendant and chain he had bought her for her nameday though, and that pleased him.

Gregor was pitted against Ser Loras, the young knight riding a mare in heat, causing Gregor’s stallion to falter, earning the poor beast a death sentence. Sandor was jumping in before he could think, defending the pretty knight from The Mountain. He couldn’t let her see Gregor kill anyone else. Seeing the horse die was bad enough. The damn squire turned knight from yesterday was worse. The Knight of Flowers would live, damnit. 

King Robert ended the fight quickly and Gregor stomped off in a huff. Loras declared Sandor the winner of the tourney, for which the crowd agreed unanimously.

He had no doubts in his mind when he handed Sansa the crown of flowers. Baelish glared at him. Ned only laughed good naturedly. Arya _howled_ with laughter and teased him for days after that. Sansa smacked her sister every time she heard the teasings and would give Sandor a shy smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less)  
> Ned - 39  
> Catelyn - 38  
> Sandor - 32  
> Theon - 24  
> Robb - 19  
> Jon - 19  
> Sansa - 16  
> Arya - 14  
> Bran - 13  
> Rickon - 7
> 
> EDIT: 4/1/2016  
> It was pointed out to me that Ser Hugh of the Vale wasn't mentioned in my original posting of this chapter. I have since rectified that. It doesn't really change anything. That is all.


	35. Dogs, Wolves And Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place a few days after the Tourney.

“Just leave your dogs behind and come on a walk with me,” Joffrey begged. Though they hadn’t been betrothed after all, Joffrey was still pursuing Sansa. Sandor suspected the queen was behind it. He had heard rumors from the castle servants.  _ A marriage to tame the North for the crown. Not likely. _

“They are wolves, not dogs, and Nymeria is with Arya at her dancing lesson,” Sansa said with a frown that Sandor heard more than saw. 

“Not that one, THAT ONE,” Joffrey said, pointing at Sandor. Her back was too him, but he knew Sansa’s frown was settling into a straight, hard line.

“Forgive me, Prince Joffrey, I have a sudden sick feeling in my stomach. I wouldn’t want you to catch anything, so maybe another day. I think I need to lie down.” She shut the door in his face. Sandor couldn’t help but grin.

“That’s the second time you’ve gotten mad at someone, little bird.”

“Maybe if people in King’s Landing weren’t so _rude_ , I wouldn’t get mad. Can you believe him? As if being a prince gives him permission to call you a dog,” she huffed. Lady jumped off the bed and followed Sansa as she paced. She stopped in front of the vase of fresh cut flowers and picked one up to sniff it delicately. She smiled at it. Sandor had gone to three shops to find flowers she would like.

“But I am one, your most loyal Hound, your dog,” he said with a grin. 

Sansa turned and scowled at him. “I don’t like it when you call yourself that. Just because  _ they _ say it, doesn’t make it true.”

He just shrugged, and changed the subject, “What about Baelish? You slapped him.”

She had the decency to blush, but said hotly, “I wanted to talk to you about that, but I didn’t know how to bring it up. He was taking liberties he should not have. He’s lucky I didn’t take my dagger to him. Mother wouldn’t be pleased, but she would have understood once I explained it.” 

Pleased as he was that she had had her dagger on her, another nameday present, Sandor was alarmed by her words and sat up at that, “What liberties?”

Sansa’s anger softened as she looked at him. She started playing with her necklace, a sure sign she was nervous. It was rare. “He...he spoke of you.”

Confused, he asked, “Me? What about me?”

“About how you got your scars. He offered to tell me the story, but before I could tell him I didn’t need to hear it from him, he told me everything he supposedly knew. Said I shouldn’t repeat it or else you might kill me. That’s when I slapped him. I don’t think he knows you are my shield, or if he did know, he must not think us to be particularly close. I think he was just trying to scare me. I told him that if he ever utters that story to anyone else, I would tell you it was him spreading it around.” She blushed again. “I hope you’re not mad at me.”

He gave her a tight smile. “Mad? Yes. At you, no. What did he tell you about my scars?”

She sighed. Her face was pained as she began, “That you and your brother had received some toys…” She did not stop until she reached the point where his father lied to cover it up. His body grew colder and colder as every true detail fell from her lips. She looked up at him then, her eyes went wide and suddenly her arms were around him and she was holding him tightly, making soft cooing noises to him. “It’s ok, San-dee, I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” she whispered. Something wet was on his face, and he realized he was crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less)  
> Ned - 39  
> Catelyn - 38  
> Sandor - 32  
> Theon - 24  
> Robb - 19  
> Jon - 19  
> Sansa - 16  
> Arya - 14  
> Bran - 13  
> Rickon - 7


	36. Arya's Friends

“How goes the babysitting?” Sandor asked Jory. They shared a room and it was the first time in a while that they had occupied it at the same time. He already knew Harwin was having an easy time as Jeyne’s guard, since he saw the man whenever she and Sansa were in each other’s presence.

“Arya has been a handful,” he sighed. “When she’s not at her dancing lessons, she’s running around with that boy, Mycah. They go down to the Street of Steel and bother one of the smiths. Well, one of his apprentices. Seems he’s a friend of Mycah. He’s patient with them. I think it’s one of Robert’s bastards. Lord Stark went to visit him today. I didn’t get to see him, but it was the same shop I follow Arya and Mycah to.”

“Think that’ll be trouble?” Sandor asked. 

Jory shook his head. “No. At least I hope not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little announcement, updates are switching to daily. 
> 
> Ages (More or less)  
> Ned - 39  
> Catelyn - 38  
> Sandor - 32  
> Theon - 24  
> Robb - 19  
> Jon - 19  
> Sansa - 16  
> Arya - 14  
> Bran - 13  
> Rickon - 7


	37. A Visit From A Black Brother

Sansa had gone to the godswood with Ned. Jeyne was with Septa Mordane and her guard, Harwin, at the sept. Sandor was enjoying a late breakfast as Arya told him of her dancing lessons. She was standing on one foot with her arms stretched out as she spoke. “It’s called Braavosi Water Dancing. Syrio says I’m well suited to it, and that Needle is as well.”

“Jon made a good choice in commissioning that thing for you.” Sandor had admired the craftsmanship of it, though it was not to his personal tastes. Give him a broadsword or an axe any day.

“Today, I have to chase a cat!” she said excitedly.

Sandor guffawed. “A  _ cat?! _ Well, I can see how that would teach you to be quick. And stealthy. The cats here aren’t wild, but they’re not domesticated either. Good luck with that, wolf girl.”

Arya returned in the afternoon, her arms and face covered in scratches, but instead of a grand smile on her face, she was speaking of murder plots and men in the underground. Shortly after, a man named Yoren came by to visit Ned. A black brother, by the looks of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less)  
> Ned - 39  
> Catelyn - 38  
> Sandor - 32  
> Theon - 24  
> Robb - 19  
> Jon - 19  
> Sansa - 16  
> Arya - 14  
> Bran - 13  
> Rickon - 7


	38. Leaving King's Landing

Jory came with the orders to pack everything. “What’s going on?” Sandor asked, wondering if it had anything to do with what Arya had been telling him about earlier. Jory shook his head. 

“Lord Stark gave up his position as Hand. The king is furious. Get the girls and get them out of King’s Landing. Some of the men will stay behind with us. We will catch up with you. He has one more thing he needs to do.”

Vayon Poole was arguing that there wasn’t enough time, but Sandor said, “What Lord Stark orders, we will do. He wouldn’t deem it necessary if he didn’t think the girls were in danger, and that includes your daughter.” Vayon nodded, though he looked like he wanted to argue more. Thankfully, he did not.

“Shall I arrange for a ship?” he asked.

“No,” Sandor said, “Wagons. We can blend in with the merchants leaving the city. If we need to take a ship, we can make a detour to Maidenpool and go from there.”

Sansa and Arya were ready to go in record time. They had made a game of it, and challenged both Jeyne and Septa Mordane. Sansa won, though Arya had the faster time, since the septa insisted on neatness counting as a factor. Sandor put his foot down about making the girls re-do their packing if it wasn’t neat enough. “There’s no time, woman!” Septa Mordane turned her nose up at him and sniffed delicately. She refused to talk to him after that, which he was fine with.

It helped that they only packed what was absolutely necessary. The rest would be sent later. Arya’s dancing instructor served as an additional guard to their party, taking Jory's place as Arya's personal guard, as most of the household guard were staying with Ned. By the time the sun reached its peak, they fled King’s Landing. A rider found them a few days later, a message from the king. Eddard Stark would be staying in King’s Landing and had taken back his position as Hand. It was up to the Stark entourage if they wished to return to the capital or continue on to Winterfell. Neither of the girls were that interested in returning, though they missed their father. Another rider a week later brought a message from Ned, that Gregor was no longer lord of Clegane’s Keep. He had been stripped of his titles and holdings, all of it transferred to Sandor. A party had been sent after his brother, with orders to execute him. Sandor wasn’t sure how to feel about this. Sansa noticed his inner turmoil and sang for him. He appreciated the gesture, though it did little to calm him.  _ It’s the thought that counts, _ he thought and hugged her. Syrio offered to spar with him. That helped more, though he was still troubled. 

They heard the full news at the inn on the crossroads a few weeks later. Catelyn had taken Tyrion Lannister hostage, prompting Jaime Lannister to attack the Stark men.  _ Damn it, Cat, why would you do that?! _ They survived the attack, but Ned was severely injured. Lannister had fled the city, and Tywin had started to gather his army. Ned was staying on as Hand to the king despite all this, though Sandor heartily wished Ned would come to his senses and leave that place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, yeah, so remember Sandor was training to fight against larger groups of attackers, and the rest of the household guards joined him in training, and even Ned took part, too? Fun fact: Winterfell guards are unofficially the best warriors in all of Westeros, because of this constant training Sandor puts himself and them through. :D
> 
> Ages (More or less)  
> Ned - 39  
> Catelyn - 38  
> Sandor - 32  
> Theon - 24  
> Robb - 19  
> Jon - 19  
> Sansa - 16  
> Arya - 14  
> Bran - 13  
> Rickon - 7


	39. Arriving Back At Winterfell

They returned to Winterfell to find that Catelyn was still gone and Robb had left with Theon and some of the Stark bannermen a few weeks prior, but Bran had woken up, much to Sansa’s delight, even when she heard that his legs were essentially useless now. She embraced him tightly until he complained of not being able to breathe. 

He didn’t remember anything about his fall, but spoke well of Tyrion Lannister. Apparently, on his way back from the Wall and before Catelyn had taken him captive, Tyrion had brought designs for a new saddle for Bran, one that would allow him to ride again, as well as hope that he could still be a warrior. Something about the Dothraki. He was surprised to see a wildling woman had become Bran’s constant companion. Bran spoke highly of her, and Sandor wondered if the boy hadn’t become enamored with the outspoken woman. She and Hodor were constant companions, as they both had a duty to Bran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less)  
> Ned - 39  
> Catelyn - 38  
> Sandor - 32  
> Theon - 24  
> Robb - 19  
> Jon - 19  
> Sansa - 16  
> Arya - 14  
> Bran - 13  
> Rickon - 7


	40. News From Kings Landing

Tywin Lannister was at war with the crown. Gregor still lived and was committing atrocities in this war. Tyrion Lannister had been released by Catelyn. Jaime Lannister, on the other hand, was still wanted for attacking the Starks, but the queen had been caught bedding her own cousin and had since been locked up. The king had surely called for her head, but it had yet to be done. Sandor could only assume Ned had somehow talked him out of it. The children were put under house arrest as well, rumors of the queen’s infidelity had gone as far as to make it seem that the crown prince and his siblings may not be Robert’s afterall. They were sent to Casterly Rock a month later and a declaration was sent out to all seven kingdoms, Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen _Waters_ were no longer the heirs to the crown, by the admission of the former queen.

Jory sent him letters, telling him of the events in the capital. _I heard it myself, she said it taking great joy from the fact that she spited the king in such a way to deny him trueborn heirs. I don’t think she realized what she had done until it was too late._

Since Robb had left Winterfell in the hands of Bran and Maester Luwin, taking many bannermen with him to defend their lands against Tywin’s troops, it was left to Bran to be the Stark seated in Winterfell. Sansa would sit with Bran and the maester as well, when they listened to petitions. She offered her advice to Bran, who listened to her views. She was not the most worldly person, but she was good and kind, and gave her honest opinion after considering all sides to the argument. Sandor stood to the side of the dais, her ever ready protector.

Many second and third sons of bannermen came to show their support before heading out to join Robb, though only two stayed for a longer duration. Meera and Jojen Reed became fast friends with the Starks. Sandor noted that it was good to see Sansa with a friend like Meera, a fierce and independent female, though Jeyne didn’t like Meera very much. Arya loved having another female warrior around. Meera taught Arya to use a spear, though Osha had been teaching Arya to fight as well, and saw Meera as competition until the two went head to head under the watchful eye of Ser Rodrick. Somewhere during the fighting, they had become friends of sorts. In addition to Meera and Osha, Syrio continued the dancing lessons. The wolf girl was getting good. He was slightly surprised she didn’t run off to join Robb’s army.

“If I left, who would defend Winterfell, you?” she said with a smirk when he brought it up.

After her dealings with the Imp, and his “trial”, a mummer’s farce if he ever heard one, Lady Catelyn stayed in the field with Robb. Sandor wasn’t unhappy that she wasn’t in Winterfell. They had made their peace, but Catelyn still had a tendency of smothering her elder daughter. He suspected it was because of the hard labor she had gone through to have Sansa, and that she was slightly jealous that her daughter had bonded so early to the scarred ward of the Starks. Besides that, Sansa was blossoming into a true leader without her mother standing over her and questioning her every move.

In a completely unexpected turn of events, Tyrion Lannister had returned to King’s Landing and was helping Ned navigate the politics of the capital. Jory wrote:

_It’s very odd to see the two of them together. The little lord first offered as a way to show that there were no hard feelings about his capture by Lady Catelyn and the imprisonment of his sister. It is well known that there is little love lost between the two siblings. They have a unique dynamic and work well together. Nearly as well as he and the King work on the battlefield. It gets even better when the spider joins the group. They’ve even got the king going to more council meetings and being more active in his rule of the realm. I think he’s even lost a bit of weight, though he’s still quite rotund. I’ve never heard Lord Stark laugh so much in his life as he has since Lord Tyrion came back. He’s still stern and stoic, but he smiles more. They’re trying to negotiate with Lord Tywin, but it doesn’t seem to be working so far. Considering Lord Tyrion was let go and Lord Tywin is still at war, it seems he is only fighting for his daughter, though she has been proven to be guilty of crimes against the crown. Lord Tyrion suspects that his father isn't even fighting for the now former queen, but is instead only fighting for himself and making a grab for the crown in the guise of love for his children. Petyr Baelish has been sent to speak with him, though Lord Stark and Lord Tyrion were both against the idea._

_There is a deal with the Tyrells on the table. They are offering their only daughter as a new bride for Robert. The girl is around Robb’s age, and is supposedly more beautiful than the former queen. Smart, too, by the sounds of it. Robert has agreed to the betrothal and the wedding will take place once the girl arrives from Highgarden. Look for the formal announcement soon, brother. If she can’t give him a son, he and the small council are considering legitimizing his baseborn sons. Odd thing though, I’ve been around to check on some of them, and several have disappeared. The smith’s apprentice is one of them._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less)  
> Ned - 39  
> Catelyn - 38  
> Sandor - 32  
> Theon - 24  
> Robb - 19  
> Jon - 19  
> Sansa - 16  
> Arya - 14  
> Bran - 13  
> Rickon - 7


	41. Greendreams

“I have dreams,” Bran told him one morning. Sansa was bringing her brother some food to eat from the table in the next room while they listened to petitioners. Hodor and Osha went with her to help.

“Everyone dreams, Bran.”

The boy shook his head. “These dreams are too real. They predict the future sometimes. Other times, it’s like I’m in Summer, running with him, as him. Jojen says I have greensight. That I’m a warg as well.”

Sandor thought about that. He had heard rumors that the Stark bloodline still had the old magic in it. “Supposedly, your family has had both.”

“Maester Luwin says those are just stories.”

“Maester Luwin doesn’t have the evidence to prove it either way,” Sandor pointed out. Bran grinned at that.

“I sometimes see a great black dog, running alongside a flying red bird. The dog is trying to protect the bird from predators, but the bird is also trying to protect the dog from unseen thorns in the foliage.” Bran looked thoughtfully at Sandor.

“What do you think that’s about?” he asked the boy.

Bran shrugged. “No idea, but I hope they make it through the forest safely. The ocean is on the other side, and it’s dangerous. It’ll swallow them up if they’re not careful. That reminds me, I had this other dream about the ocean coming to Winterfell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah....yeah... *shuffles off sadly*
> 
> Ages (More or less)  
> Ned - 39  
> Catelyn - 38  
> Sandor - 32  
> Theon - 24  
> Robb - 19  
> Jon - 19  
> Sansa - 16  
> Arya - 14  
> Bran - 13  
> Rickon - 7


	42. The Ocean At Winterfell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following takes place several months after the previous chapter.

He had been patrolling in the early morning hours when the first grappling hook appeared on the wall. He sent out a silent signal, warning the other soldiers. They were reduced even more due to the fact that Ser Rodrick had taken men to defend Torrhen’s Square, but they had been preparing for a surprise attack. The attack on Torrhen’s Square had seemed fishy to Sandor and to Ser Rodrick, and Sandor had started running drills even as Ser Rodrick marched off with his small squadron. 

Some of the intruders slipped by them, but just as many fell to their swords.

Dawn had broken and the cries from the main square drew his attention. Theon was there, holding Sansa at daggerpoint, still in her bedclothes, though she was at least wearing a warm cloak over that with boots protecting her feet from the recent snow. Bran and Rickon were sitting to the side, holding each other's hands. The direwolves were nowhere to be seen. He could only imagine what Theon had done to them. The last he had heard, Theon had been sent to treaty with his father for Robb while Catelyn traveled to treat with Renly Baratheon, yet now here he was, with men that looked strong and weather beaten.  _ Ironborn. _

He grit his teeth, wanting to smash in Theon’s smug smile. He remembered Bran’s dream.  _ “The ocean is coming to Winterfell.” _

He noticed a flash of fur behind Theon and the remaining Ironborn. Lady was silently stalking Theon.  _ Guess he didn’t get to the wolves after all. _

“Let her go, Theon. This isn’t you,” he said.

“Clegane. Put your sword down, and she won’t be hurt. She’ll be well cared for as my bride,” Theon said with a cocky smirk. “It grieves me that we meet as foes.”

“It grieves me that you have less honor than a back alley whore, but there we are. You grew up here. Robb, Sansa, all of the Starks treated you like family. Like a brother,” Sandor snarled. “How can you throw that away?!”

“I never belonged here. I wasn’t supposed to  _ be _ here! Treated me like a brother?? My brothers are  _ dead _ . They died fighting men like you, Stark men,” Theon spat out.

“ _ Three _ sons of Greyjoy.  _ Two _ are gone. They died in a war  _ your _ father started. You are the only  _ one _ left. If Ned could see you right now--”

“Well, good thing he’s not here then,” Theon sneered. Sansa stomped on his foot, her anger at Theon’s betrayal fueling her strength. He howled in pain and Theon’s grip on Sansa loosened. She took the opportunity to slam her elbow into his head and then ducked out of the way to the safety of Sandor. Lady launched herself at Theon’s back, growling, snarling and pulling a shrieking Theon to the ground. The other Ironborn reacted, but Syrio, Arya and other soldiers were there to fight them. Nymeria, Shaggy and Summer were with them. They had surrounded the enemy, using Sandor’s distraction to their advantage. Sandor had to pull Lady off of the traitor, though she took a chunk of Theon’s arm with her. It was the first time Sandor had seen her looking so fierce. The blood on her muzzle dripped as she reverted back to soft kitten mode when she pushed Sansa away from the fighting. Nymeria, Summer and Shaggy were guarding the boys, allowing Osha and Hodor to collect them and get them to safety.

Much later on, Sansa marvelled over Sandor’s skill as she cleaned the blood from Lady, speaking highly of how he was able to separate her from Theon by distracting him and allowing her to use some of her lessons. It was a scenario they had practiced, working a countdown into any conversation that happened, using the immediate distraction to make an escape. He had not expected Lady to be paying any attention to what they had practiced, though it worked out much better than he could have expected. He would have to try incorporating some training for Lady into future lessons.

Theon did not leave Winterfell, nor did any of the Ironborn he brought with him. Of the ones still alive, Syrio, Arya and Sandor made quick work of the biggest ones, the other men taking care of the rest of them. Theon was left alive, and thrown into the dungeon for his treachery after being treated by Maester Luwin. “You think you were a prisoner before?” Sandor snarled. “Tell me how you feel in a month.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... I may have leaned on Ser Rodrick's dialogue from the show a wee bit. :P
> 
> Ages (More or less)  
> Ned - 40  
> Catelyn - 39  
> Sandor - 33  
> Theon - 25  
> Robb - 20  
> Jon - 20  
> Sansa - 17  
> Arya - 15  
> Bran - 14  
> Rickon - 8


	43. A Broken Promise & Fathers

Robb had married, but he took the wrong woman. His promise to Walder Frey was broken, the man’s loyalty bought for joining the two houses, his allegiance to the crown tenuous at best. Sandor read the missive once more and shook his head. He could have told Robb this was folly. He looked over at Sansa, who was deep in conversation with Bran, while Arya and Rickon looked on, bored out of their minds. He didn’t fault the young man. He knew he would give anything to be able to have his little bird as his wife and for her to love him in return.  _ Love is a dangerous thing. _

More news from the capital. The wedding of King Robert Baratheon and Lady Margaery Tyrell was announced. Ned sent a note along with the formal invitations. Due to the war going on, it would be a brief affair. Ned would represent Winterfell and House Stark, none of the family needed to journey south unless they wished to do so.

**********

“When is Father coming home?” Rickon asked him. Sandor was showing him the proper way to hold a sword, and looked down at the young boy.

“It could be a while. Your father is Hand of the King and that’s a full time job, considering how King Robert is,” he replied. Rickon swung the sword as Sandor showed him.

“But why? Why did he have to become Hand? Why couldn’t he stay here, at home? I miss him. You’re nice and all, Sandor, but you’re not Father.” Rickon gave him a sullen look. 

He patted the boy’s head. “I know. If my father was half as good as yours, I would miss him, too.”

“You don’t miss your father?” The boy was genuinely curious.

Sandor shook his head. “Not really. He was a louse and a coward, mean and angry. He would often strike me and my brother just because he could. If your uncle and grandfather hadn’t taken me in, I don’t know what would have happened to me.”

Rickon thought about it. “I don’t like your father.”

Sandor barked a laugh. “Few did, pup. Few did. Your father, on the other hand, is respected by the houses and smallfolk of the North. They would rally behind him if he called his banners. He’s doing the best he can, and hopefully will come back soon, but until then, keep practicing. You’ll be wanting to show him how good of a warrior you are when he gets back, won’t you?”

Rickon grinned and nodded before resuming practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less)  
> Ned - 40  
> Catelyn - 39  
> Sandor - 33  
> Theon - 25  
> Robb - 20  
> Jon - 20  
> Sansa - 17  
> Arya - 15  
> Bran - 14  
> Rickon - 8


	44. A Family Discussion & A New Occupant

Bran called a family meeting a week after the news of Robb’s marriage had arrived. Sandor stood with Maester Luwin and Septa Mordane, listening to the discussion.

“Mother sent us a more detailed letter. It seems that our brother’s alliance with the Freys and then his marriage to a Westerling has more ramifications than we realized,” Bran said. “The initial report sent to him of Theon’s betrayal was grossly inaccurate, and said that we had all been slaughtered and burned.”

“What?!” Rickon was outraged. “Who would do such a thing?”

“The message was passed verbally for the most part, before it go to Robb and Mother. You know how that sort of thing goes. In his sorrow, he turned to Jeyne Westerling and sought... _comfort_...from her. After that, he married her to preserve her and his honor. I, of course, sent a written and detailed report, but it didn’t get there until well after.” Bran sighed heavily. Sandor didn’t envy the little lordling. It was a heavy burden for anyone to bear, let alone a fourteen year old boy.

Bran continued, “He had also attempted to agree to Lord Walder’s request of Sansa and Arya’s hands to two of Lord Walder’s sons.” Sandor’s heart squeezed painfully at the thought of his little bird being sent to the Twins to become a Frey. Neither she nor Arya would fare well in that household.

“He can _not_ do that!” Sansa shot to her feet and exclaimed. “Father is still head of our house and Hand of the King. He is the _only_ one who can decide something like that.” Arya was grinding her teeth, fuming and in complete agreement.

Bran gave her a gentle smile. “Yes, you are correct. Mother reminded Robb of that during negotiations. Besides, it’s not like Robb is a king, nor are any of us royalty, so Lord Walder gave that up fairly quickly. Never fear, Mother didn’t let him sell you off.” Sansa was still upset, but sat back down, quietly mumbling an apology for her outburst. “It’s fine, Sansa, completely understandable. Now, he did agree to some other things, like taking on a squire and two of the Frey boys were to be sent to Winterfell. With the recent attack, however, Mother is fearful of something happening to them, and has arranged for them to be sent to King’s Landing instead, to foster with the court. Lord Walder seems to be even more thrilled by this, though he speaks of the _insult_ that his grandsons cannot stay at Winterfell.”

“Freys in the capital,” Arya scoffed, “that’ll end well. I’ll put a silver stag on them embarrassing themselves before they’ve been there a month.”

“I’ve got two months,” Rickon said.

“Make mine three then,” Bran said, an amused grin on his face.

“I’ll give them the benefit of a doubt,” Sansa said, “six months.” They all looked over at the other adults in the room.

“Four months,” Maester Luwin said, trying not to smile and failing.

“I will not participate nor condone such rude behavior,” Septa Mordane said with a disgusted sniffle. “I say they will not embarrass themselves at all.”

“So...you are participating then?” Sandor asked with a smirk. Septa Mordane went a little red faced, but she looked away defiantly. Sandor laughed, “Guess I’ll take five months then.”

“Well, with that settled,” Bran said, “there’s a few more things. The Frey men who joined him when the deal was struck have since abandoned him.  Robb will need to make reparations for breaking his promise to marry a Frey girl, however. How he will do that is undecided at this time. They have fallen back to Riverrun. Our grandfather is not doing well. Mother would like for us to join her, but considering the war going on, feels it is best if we remain here at Winterfell. She feels it won’t be long before he passes on, and will return after that with our new goodsister. Robb will be staying in the Riverlands with the Northern army to help keep the Lannister forces at bay. Mother, and the group she will be accompanied by, will need to take the long way, since they will probably not be able to cross at the Twins. Oh, and apparently, she is very annoyed at her brother, because he ‘chased the lions down the wrong path’, whatever that means. She’ll send word again, if she can, before leaving Riverrun.”

**********

A new occupant to Winterfell came through the gates one day. A young man that bore a striking resemblance to King Robert. He said his name was Gendry Waters, and that he was a smith. Sandor brought him before Bran and Sansa as they held court.

“You seek shelter here?” Bran asked.

“Yes, milord. Yoren of the Night’s Watch told me to come here. I’m skilled, I was an apprentice to one of the best smiths in all King’s Landing.” Gendry spoke with honest eyes.

“Why did he tell you to come here?” Sansa asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

“He said he was told to, but he couldn’t say who told him. Yoren gave a me horse, some supplies and told me to ride for Winterfell once we got close enough. He still had some other cities to visit before he comes through here. He said you were friendly to the Black Brothers, that you might help me.”

“Would you want to continue being a smith?” Bran asked.

Gendry nodded, “It’s the only thing I know, the only thing I’m good at. My master told me that Lord Stark told him if I ever wanted to exchange my hammer for a sword, he would be willing to take me in. I’m not quite ready to make that exchange, but I’m happy to swing my hammer for the Starks.”

Bran looked at him thoughtfully, “Very well, speak to Mikkon. He is our castle smith. He hasn’t had an apprentice in a while, but he would appreciate the help, I’m sure. Sandor, please escort him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less)  
> Ned - 40  
> Catelyn - 39  
> Sandor - 33  
> Theon - 25  
> Robb - 20  
> Jon - 20  
> Sansa - 17  
> Arya - 15  
> Bran - 14  
> Rickon - 8


	45. Battle of the Blackwater Bay

_Brother,_  
_Greetings from King’s Landing. Unfortunately, I have grim tidings. Tywin's army is approaching the capital. Our scouts tell us he abandoned the field after a skirmish with Lady Catelyn’s brother. He had since turned his attention to gaining the crown the bloody way. His own army is approaching by land, and he has hired a company of sellswords to attack by sea. Lord Stannis has sent a small company of pirates to help defend the Bay, while he stays and fights Lannister men in the countryside. Gregor is among these men. Tywin has also brought in sellswords to fight his battle with them. I know the Lannisters are rich beyond measure, but surely the cost of this war is even beyond him!_  
_Lord Stannis’s right-hand man, Davos Seaworth, is leading the pirates. The entire city is preparing for the fight. Thankfully, Lord Stark and Lord Tyrion have been preparing for just such a situation. We are prepared for a siege, but this may be the last letter I will be able to send for a while. Say hello to the children for me, and tell Arya I thank her for all the training she put me through when I was her guard here. It has been most helpful._  
_Jory_

**********

News of the Battle of the Blackwater brought no joy to Winterfell. Tywin had launched an all out attack on the capital. Ned, Tyrion, and Robert had defended the city well, catapulting wildfire at the enemy. Where they had found it was anyone’s guess. Stannis had been fighting roving bands of Tywin’s sellswords in the west and unable to come to his brother’s aid in time. Robert had gone out as one of the fighters, as had Ned, but Robert had not survived the fighting. His skills were too rusty, though it was said he had taken out a lot of the enemy. Ned lived, but he was now a hostage of Twyin and his freed daughter. Queen Margaery had been spirited away by Renly, back to Highgarden. It was said that she was pregnant with Robert’s child. The Lannisters would not have let her live if she had stayed. Jory and the rest of the Stark men were being held captive as well. Sansa and Bran spent many hours in both the godswood and the sept praying for them all. No word on Tyrion Lannister or the master of whispers.

Sandor shuddered at the details of the wildfire, and was glad they had left when they did. He wondered if maybe they should have stayed behind instead, maybe they could have helped Ned and the others. Syrio offered to spar with him, to take his mind off the bad news they had received. He missed Jory, but was grateful for the friend he found in Syrio, even if the man found humor in the oddest things. He only hoped his old friend survived to make it back to meet his new friend.

They received word from the Lannisters, a message sent across the kingdoms. _Bend the knee to the new king, Tywin Lannister, first of his name._ Neither Stannis nor Renly took kindly to that. Sandor shook his head when he heard. Instead of joining forces, the Baratheon brothers were each declaring themselves the rightful regent, since the queen was still a few months away from giving birth. _No good can come of this._ Robb must have seen that, too, because he refused to declare for either brother until they stopped bickering and defended the kingdom. “I have enough to worry about defending the people of the North,” he was quoted saying. The other Houses agreed, but remained in the fields with whoever was closest to them in order to defend their lands and people.

Not even a month later, they received word that Renly was dead. Killed by a shadow, killed by his kingsguard, killed by his own brother, that part was unclear. There was even a rumor that Lady Catelyn killed him when she was sent to negotiate with him. Sandor snorted at the thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 40  
>  Catelyn - 39  
>  Robb - 20  
>  Jon - 20  
>  | Sansa - 17  
>  Arya - 15  
>  Bran - 14  
>  Rickon - 8 | Sandor - 33  
>  Theon - 25  
>  Gendry - 21  
>   
> ---|---|---


	46. Lady Stark Returns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a bit late, sorry. Was tired last night.

Catelyn returned to Winterfell. She brought her own sworn shield, Lady Brienne of Tarth, her gooddaughter Jeyne Stark, formerly Westerling, and their prisoner, Jaime Lannister, as well as a small guard of men and Grey Wind, who was guarding the little Lady Stark. Sansa was gracious to all, though a little cold to the Kingslayer. Arya openly scowled at the man. Bran mimicked Sansa’s courtesy and Rickon just looked bored.

“My, my, Lady Sansa, you’ve grown well. As have you, Lady Arya,” Jaime said, as if she had greeted him with a curtsy instead of hostility.

“Ser Jaime is to be our  _ guest _ for a while. Robb feels it would be better to keep him safe here, rather than cart him around with the camp,” Catelyn said. “He, Edmure and my uncle are on their way to the Twins. Edmure is getting married.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 40  
>  Catelyn - 39  
>  Robb - 20  
>  Jon - 20  
>  | Sansa - 17  
>  Arya - 15  
>  Bran - 14  
>  Rickon - 8 | Jaime - 38  
>  Sandor - 33  
>  Theon - 25  
>  Brienne - 23  
>  Gendry - 21  
>   
> ---|---|---


	47. The Maid of Tarth

“You any good with that sword, woman?” he asked Brienne when he saw her in the training yard.

“Good enough to stay alive. You?” she responded.

“Good enough to keep my charge alive.” He considered her for a moment. “Want to spar?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. It had not escaped his notice that no one else had offered in the time she had been there. Syrio would have, but his duties did not leave him much time for friendly sparring at the moment. Osha had offered, but there was only so much she could do since she only knew how to wield a spear.

“Sure. Start slow?” she asked, but he could see it was a test.

He grinned at her, “Not likely.”

**********

They were in a tavern a few days later when Brienne started speaking about her former lord, “It was No One, who killed Renly.”

“No one? What does that mean?” Gendry asked.

 _Fucking riddles,_ Sandor thought. Sandor hated riddles. He was usually able to solve them after a while, but he hated them. Bran had a book full of them that he would read to Sansa sometimes in the evening.

“No One. It means a Faceless Man,” Syrio said quietly. “Most dangerous, they can blend into any situation, become anyone because they are no one.”

“You sure it was one of these...no ones?” Gendry asked. He was a bit of a skeptic when it came to things like this. Sandor tried to keep an open mind, though this Faceless Man thing wasn’t that beyond his ability to believe.

“Tis dark magic, you think?” The wildling woman was the most likely to believe, as she had seen things beyond the Wall that could only be explained by magic.

Brienne shrugged. “That, I cannot say. Ser Loras and Lady Catelyn saw it, too. She had been sent by Lord Robb to speak to both the Baratheon brothers and help them find peace. This _Faceless_ was posing as one of Renly’s Highguard. I nearly beat him in a tourney to gain the last spot, but he was better than me. I was granted a high position as Loras’ second for my skill. As soon as Renly hit the ground, Alder or whoever he really is, pulled his face off, and disappeared into the night. I nearly soiled myself when he did that, it was horrible. Loras was beside himself with grief. They were...they were very close. It was Lady Catelyn who took charge. She told Ser Loras that it was most likely Tywin who was behind this, and that Lord Stannis or Queen Margaery were probably next. She charged him with taking half of his army back to protect his sister and her unborn child, and send the other half to Stannis. Tywin would most likely try for Stannis before Margaery though.”

“Tywin? I suppose that’s a logical conclusion. Stannis doesn’t have much reason to kill his brother, not over a regency at least. Maybe if they were both vying to be king, but not regent,” Sandor said.

“Faceless Men are extremely costly, as well, depending on the target,” Syrio said. “For the royal family…only a Lannister would be able to pay. Or a Tyrell, but they have no reason.”

Gendry spoke, “The Tyrells owed him for saving Queen Margaery, so yes, they are the least likely. The only good thing to come out of this is that now all of the Houses that were divided between Renly and Lord Stannis have united to fight the Lannisters, their bannermen and sellswords.”

“Why are you with Lady Stark now?” Osha asked Brienne, sipping her ale thoughtfully. “Not that I’m complaining, nice having a fellow warrior woman around, but why not go to Stannis?”

“Lady Catelyn was kind to me while she was a visitor to the camp. She needed protection to Stannis and then to get back to her son, Robb. I was going to be escorting her anyway, before Renly… Anyway, along the way, I came to admire her and swore my life to hers. Lord Stannis has plenty of soldiers ready to fight for him. Lady Catelyn did not. She needed me and I needed her, I discovered. Besides, I'm the only one who can guard the Kingslayer without giving in to the temptation to kill him, as it turns out.” Sandor watched Brienne become slightly sullen from the talk. She was better when she was overly cheerful and her optimism was too bloody much to take in the early morning hours when they sparred.

“Well, here’s to serving the Stark women,” Sandor said, raising his mug. “May we keep them protected, and not be driven insane by them.” The other four laughed heartily at that and gave cheers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 40  
>  Catelyn - 39  
>  Robb - 20  
>  Jon - 20  
>  | Sansa - 17  
>  Arya - 15  
>  Bran - 14  
>  Rickon - 8 | Jaime - 38  
>  Sandor - 33  
>  Theon - 25  
>  Brienne - 23  
>  Gendry - 21  
>   
> ---|---|---


	48. Red Wedding

The news of Robb’s death reached them. Catelyn had told the family what had happened, her voice tight and angry as she read aloud from the missive sent by the Freys, for which Sandor had been present. It was easy enough to read between the lines. Walder Frey had not forgiven the slight against him, and made an alliance with the Boltons for revenge. There was a strong suspicion that the Lannisters were also involved, but nothing that could be proven without a doubt. Roose Bolton had been eyeing Ned’s position in the North, and on the few occasions he had visited Winterfell in the past, Sandor had made sure to keep Sansa and Arya away from him, making up excuses like going for a ride in the Wolfswood or scheduling extra defense lessons. How Roose believed the Northmen would accept him after turning on the most beloved Starks was beyond him.

Edmure remained a hostage at the Twins with his new wife, though the Blackfish had escaped. Sandor contributed Catelyn’s shorter than normal temper to these facts.

Sansa walked to the godswood after the family meeting, tight-lipped and fighting to keep back her emotions, with Sandor following close behind. He held her beneath the weirwood as she cried for her brother. Her eyes lacked their usual warmth after, though she tried to give him a smile. “Don’t force it, little bird. I’m the one person you don’t need to hide your emotions from.” She nodded, closed her eyes and slept in his arms for a while.

They found Arya sparring with Syrio later on. Her moves were sloppy and full of anger, betraying her emotions. Syrio only commented when necessary. Later, he and Syrio were dismissed as Arya had announced “for no particular reason” that she and Nymeria would be staying with Sansa and Lady that night.

**********

Three weeks later, Robb’s supporters began to show up at Winterfell’s gates. The Karstarks, lead by a very wounded Rickard Karstark, were the first. He brought them good news, that Robb was indeed alive, but even more wounded than him. The Karstarks had managed to get to his side before he was struck down. They separated their forces, the Umbers, the Karstarks, the Manderlys, the Mallisters, the Mormonts, the Hornwoods and the various houses of the river lords loyal to House Tully, in groups of two to three houses and each trekked across Westeros to the safety of the North and Riverrun, respectively, hiding their leader among their ranks, before heading back to their own estates to regroup and recover. Catelyn was relieved to see her uncle among the survivors as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, basically, since Sansa and Arya weren't in the capital and Ned is too valuable a hostage to trade for Tywin to attempt to trade for Jaime (ha! a reversal of positions!), and no Tyrion to even make the initial offer, there was no need for Catelyn to release Jaime upon hearing the tragic (and inaccurate) news of her children dying at the hands of Theon (though she may have tried to strangle Jaime in her grief and Brienne stopped her), and therefore no need for Rickard Karstark to kill the Lannister and/or Frey hostages, no need for Robb to take his head and then suffer from the loss of the Karstarks' support. I'm kind of reaching a bit to say that having the Karstarks would save Robb, but I'm ok with that if you are.
> 
> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 40  
>  Catelyn - 39  
>  Robb - 20  
>  Jon - 20  
>  | Sansa - 17  
>  Arya - 15  
>  Bran - 14  
>  Rickon - 8 | Jaime - 38  
>  Sandor - 33  
>  Theon - 25  
>  Brienne - 23  
>  Gendry - 21  
>   
> ---|---|---


	49. Leaving and Staying in Winterfell

The news of Joffrey’s marriage and then death at his own wedding brought mixed reactions. Legitimized by his regal grandfather, Joffrey Lannister had been marching with a faction of the Lannister to meet up with the Frey army for his marriage to one of Lord Walder's daughters, though if the tales were true, he was only a figurehead and a weak one at that. The wedding was as grand as possible, considering it was held in an army camp. It was a surprise attack on the camp and both Joffrey and his Frey wife had been killed in the skirmish that followed. He heard Catelyn mutter, “First Edmure, now Joffrey, it’s hard enough getting men to the altar.” The northern army had had scouts in the area, but by all accounts, they were not the ones to do it. There was a whisper of discontent in the camp, but there were _always_ whispers of discontent, so Sandor didn’t put much stock in that, despite the rumors also saying it was the Lannister and Frey soldiers who had gotten tired of the self-important grandson of their king. He did think that it would have been quite fitting if it turned out to be true and they had killed him to spare themselves misery of his company.

Later that day, they found a note from Bran. He had run away from Winterfell with Meera and Jojen Reed. Hodor had gone with them, but Osha was left behind. She was furious about it, as were the Lady Starks. It was one of the few times he heard both Sansa and Catelyn swear. A small group was sent after them to retrieve the wayward son, but Sandor had a feeling they wouldn’t find them. Sansa confided to him later that she shouldn’t have been surprised. Bran had been talking about it for a while, that it was something he needed to do. “Because winter is coming, and it’s bringing something with it,” she told him. “Or at least that is what he and Jojen were saying.”

The Blackfish left with some of the army to lay siege to the Twins. He asked Sandor to join them. “Could use someone of your skills. You’ve taught the troops well. They would follow you into battle, of that I have no doubt. Though we'll be doing a lot of standing around for a while first.”

“My place is by my lady,” Sandor said. “Otherwise, I would.”

Bryndon smiled knowingly. “Take care of my great niece. I will see you again, Clegane.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 40  
>  Catelyn - 39  
>  Robb - 20  
>  Jon - 20  
>  | Sansa - 17  
>  Arya - 15  
>  Bran - 14  
>  Rickon - 8 | Jaime - 38  
>  Sandor - 33  
>  Theon - 25  
>  Brienne - 23  
>  | Gendry - 21  
>   
> ---|---|---|---


	50. Agents of S.T.A.R.K.

Robb had recovered, though it was many months before he was able to walk on his own, much less hold a sword. The battles were being waged with Brynden Tully and Smalljon Umber as the stand-ins for the acting Warden of the North. The Ironborn were occupying Moat Cailin and were under siege by Ramsey Snow. This allowed Robb’s forces to surround and annihilate the Bolton force, and then take on the weary Ironborn, who were sent packing back to their isles if they surrendered. Sansa had taken over listening to petitions in Bran’s absence. Rickon would sit with her, but he usually ignored the proceedings despite Sansa and Maester Luwin’s admonishments. 

Ser Rodrik handed over the reins of re-training Robb to Sandor and Brienne, whom he had approved of as a fighter. His health hadn’t been quite the same since Theon’s betrayal, and he had recently caught a cold that he hadn’t been able to shake yet. He even allowed his daughter Beth to fret over him, which was rare. Sandor agreed to it, as long as it didn’t interfere with his duties of guarding and training Sansa. After Theon, he didn’t want to take any chances.

“Sandor,” Ser Rodrick said, pulling him aside. “Lord Robb asked me to assemble a small team to infiltrate the Red Keep and rescue Lord Stark and our men. Would you…”

“Of course, I’ll have a list of people to recommend to you by the end of the day.”

“Thank you. I hope to send out the team in a month or two. Special training will be required.” Beth approached her father. The man nodded to Sandor and allowed his daughter to lead him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strategic Tactical Aerial Recovery Kinsmen (I have no idea, I'm just making crap up at this point, I should really go to bed)
> 
> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 40  
>  Catelyn - 39  
>  Robb - 20  
>  Jon - 20  
>  | Sansa - 17  
>  Arya - 15  
>  Bran - 14  
>  Rickon - 8 | Jaime - 38  
>  Sandor - 33  
>  Theon - 25  
>  Brienne - 23  
>  | Gendry - 21  
>   
> ---|---|---|---


	51. Death Comes In Threes

Twyin was dead and Cersei had claimed the Iron Throne for herself. It was said that chaos reigned in the capital, and the smallfolk and highborn alike were deserting like rats off a sinking ship. There were rumors of what happened to Tywin, but the most popular theory was that Cersei had killed him in a fit of madness when she heard about Joffrey’s death. The second most popular theory was that Tyrion had returned and shot his father with a crossbow. The least popular, and probably the most likely in Sandor’s opinion, was that Tywin had simply choked on a piece of food.

That was the news he could handle. He wished the visitor to Winterfell had stopped there. Gregor was dead as well. It was said that the Martells has used the disorder in King’s Landing as a distraction and went after the Mountain That Rides in the field while his master wasn’t around. The Red Viper had stalked him for days, then struck him when he was most vulnerable and gutted him slowly. The stories varied on if the Sand Snakes had helped.

It was one of the few times Sandor let himself get rip roaring drunk. He wasn’t sure if he was toasting the death of his childhood tormentor, or mourning the loss of his own revenge, though at the very least, he could take some solace in the fact that Gregor had died in great pain. Syrio and Brienne accompanied him to the tavern, and (Sandor assumed) dragged him back to his room after that. He awoke to Sansa sitting by his bedside, ready to tend to his hangover, and promised himself he would thank his charge, the Braavosi and the Maid one way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, Joffrey was the first death.
> 
> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 40  
>  Catelyn - 39  
>  Robb - 20  
>  Jon - 20  
>  | Sansa - 17  
>  Arya - 15  
>  Bran - 14  
>  Rickon - 8 | Jaime - 38  
>  Sandor - 33  
>  Theon - 25  
>  Brienne - 23  
>  | Gendry - 21  
>   
> ---|---|---|---


	52. A King's Bastard

“How does it feel, milord?” the young blacksmith asked. Mikkon had given Gendry more responsibility and one of them was creating new swords for the household guard, including Sandor.

He stepped out into a more open area and took a few practice swings. It was lighter than he expected, but it looked similar to his previous sword. He swung it around a few more times. It would take some getting used to, but he would be able to move faster with this sword. “Will it have the same strength as my previous one?” His last sword had broken during a spar using live steel. He had hit his opponent’s blade at just the wrong angle and a crack had appeared. Mikken had shaken his head when he saw it and ordered Gendry to make Sandor a new blade.

“Moreso, milord.”

“Good. I’ll be take it for sparring today, let you know how it works out. Good work, lad.”

Gendry smiled in a dopey manner, pleased that his work was found acceptable. “Glad to be of service, milord.”

**********

Robb was looking better each day. His wife and sisters would often come to watch his training, though Catelyn discouraged them and refused to join them, even if Brienne was the one in charge of training that day. 

“She’s just worried about you,” Sandor said to Robb, after the young man complained about Catelyn. “She doesn’t know when she’ll see your father again,  _ if _ she’ll see him again, Bran disappeared with the Reeds, nearly lost you to the damned Freys.”

Rickon had joined in their training sessions. Arya wanted to as well, but Catelyn had put her foot down about that. She was already upset to learn about Syrio, though didn’t turn the man out, since Ned had made the arrangements. She either didn't know or refused to say anything about Brienne and Osha training Arya. Instead of training with Robb and Rickon, Arya took to bothering the new smith, who would patiently answer all her questions. They seemed to be friends already, which made Sandor corner Arya one afternoon.

“He’s my friend from King’s Landing,” she admitted. 

“The smith’s apprentice who was friends with the butcher’s boy?”

“How do you know about that?!” she demanded. 

He laughed. “Don’t get your hackles up, wolf-girl. Jory told me. Don’t worry, I won’t interfere. He puts up with your antics, so he’s alright by me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go see Robb about a king’s bastard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 41  
>  Catelyn - 40  
>  Robb - 21  
>  Jon - 21  
>  | Sansa - 18  
>  Arya - 16  
>  Bran - 15  
>  Rickon - 9 | Jaime - 39  
>  Sandor - 34  
>  Theon - 26  
>  Brienne - 24  
>  | Gendry - 22  
>   
> ---|---|---|---


	53. No Two Sisters Are Alike

He had suspected it for a while, but now he was sure of it. Sansa was staring at him. Blatantly staring at him. He should have felt awkward, maybe even nervous, but the sun was shining brightly for once and they had been training all afternoon. As soon as he stripped his tunic off, he felt her eyes on his naked torso, his battle scars on display for all to see. Robb had stripped off his as well, and was showing off for his little wife, who was nearly ready to pop from her pregnancy. Sandor could not afford to be so upfront about it, but if he suddenly felt the need to dump a bucket of water on himself to cool down, and if Sansa wanted to keep staring, who was he to complain? _Probably just curious about the male form._ As long as she wasn’t looking at anyone else, he was fine with it.

Brienne just rolled her eyes and told him to not catch a cold. It was nice having a sister again.

**********

“Now duck under, good, attack the back of the knee to bring them down, then attack here, on the spine, good, hard as you can. Harder!” Brienne yelled. She had been helping Sandor with Sansa and Arya’s defense lessons. Brienne had had more women specific training thanks to her father and was passing it on to Sansa. “Very good, Lady Sansa. Now, try it against your sister.”

She sat down with Sandor as the two sisters circled each other. Lady and Nymeria were watching intently, circling with their mistresses, but staying out of the way. “And Lady Catelyn has no idea about this?” Brienne asked him, sipping carefully from her water cup.

He shook his head. “At this point, I have no idea anymore. She doesn’t mention it. No one really talks about it, though only Ned, Jory and the boys know about it. Oh, Ser Rodrick does as well, now that I think about it.”

“Do you really think she would ban it, considering this training is what saved her daughter’s life?”

He shrugged. “I’ve learned not to push Catelyn when it comes to her daughters. If she knows, fine. If she doesn’t, then probably better that she doesn’t know.”

**********

“You ever goin’ ta tell the lady how you feel about her?” Osha asked him when he stopped in the kitchen for a late lunch. She had plopped down next to him with a tray of goodies before blindsiding him with the question.

“The fuck are you talking about?” he asked, tearing into the bread she had brought him.

“Lady Saaansa,” she drawled. “You gonna tell her? That you’re in love wit her. I can tell her, if you like. I can also teach her ways ta please--”

Sandor slapped his hand over her mouth. “Never mention this again.” She shoved his hand away, right into his face. “Ow.”

“Why not?” She frowned, then got a knowing look on her face. “Oh, you want ta teach her yourself. I can understand that, but there’s some things a woman should learn about from another woman.”

“Damn it, woman! Keep your voice down!” He attempted to cover her mouth again, but she bit his hand before he could. “OW! Fuckin’ HELLS!!”

Osha just grinned. “Fine. I’ll leave this alone. For now.” He growled at her as she walked away laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 41  
>  Catelyn - 40  
>  Robb - 21  
>  Jon - 21  
>  | Sansa - 18  
>  Arya - 16  
>  Bran - 15  
>  Rickon - 9 | Jaime - 39  
>  Sandor - 34  
>  Theon - 26  
>  Brienne - 24  
>  | Gendry - 22  
>   
> ---|---|---|---


	54. Going In The Right Direction

“You’re going back to the battlefield?” Sansa asked incredulously. Sandor snorted quietly, it was no surprise to him, but Sansa just glared daggers at him and went back to her brother. “The baby is due any day now. You could at least stay long enough for that!”

“War waits for no man, nor babe,” Robb pointed out. Sandor could have sworn he heard her growl. Robb did not. “I have to strike back against--”

“Against who, exactly?” she demanded. “Cersei has made a complete mess in the capital with the Faith Militant. You’ve organized men to rescue Father and our men being held there. They’ll be leaving any day now. Renly is dead, his supporters are either in King’s Landing trying to bring order or up North at the Wall with Lord Stannis, who is fighting _with_ the Night’s Watch, I might add. The Ironborn are in the middle of a civil struggle since the death of Balon Greyjoy. The Boltons have been vanquished in your and Father’s name by our followers, the Freys are currently under siege by Mormonts and the Hornwoods, led by our great uncle. The war across the country is shifting, Robb. _Who_ exactly do you need to fight against? Because if it’s anyone, then it’s joining forces with Jon and the king regent at the Wall to combat those...those… Sandor, what did Jon call them?”

“White walkers, wights, basically the undead,” he rasped. Jon had been sending letters since his return from beyond the Wall, telling them, and the rest of Westeros, of the dangers coming south. He had also told them of Benjen’s disappearance. Sansa had spent an extra hour in the godswood praying that day.

“Yes, them. If you must go to war, go North.” Sansa folded her arms across her chest. “Or stay here and be present for the birth of your first child. Then go to war in the North.”

Robb hissed, “Sansa, I am your leader, the acting Warden of the North--”

“You are my brother!” she yelled at him. “My dim-witted brother by the current talk.” Sandor could see the vein popping out from Robb’s forehead. He shifted his weight to the ready. He may be the leader of the North and Sansa’s kin, but Sansa was _his_ to protect, even from her own brother, if need be. “Do you know what a woman goes through during childbirth?”

Robb looked startled by the question, but shook his head. The anger Sandor had seen was receding and he relaxed his stance a bit.

“It’s pain. Imagine an orange trying to exit your body through your nostril. And not all women survive it. Take a good look at your wife before you leave, Robb. Kiss her well and hold her tight, because she might not survive the birth,” Sansa said angrily. Sandor remembered that night so long ago, remembered the panic that had set into Ned and Maester Luwin.

“She’s right, Your Grace. The little Lady Stark is such a tiny thing. Your own mother had problems the night Sansa was born. We didn’t know if she’d make it through the night.” Sansa looked startled by the news, but turned to Robb.

“As your sister, as your advisor, please stay until after the baby is born. Then, go to Jon.”

Robb was subdued, dubious about Jon’s claims, but agreed to stay. He left to go see Jeyne shortly after.

“You never told me that before,” Sansa said quietly.

Sandor shrugged. “Never came up before. It was so long ago, I had nearly forgotten it.”

She gave him a half-grin, “So you have literally known me my entire life, then?”

“Just about.”

**********

“I think I’m in love with the Kingslayer,” Brienne said out of the blue. She, Syrio and Sandor were taking a much needed break and sharing a meal together at the tavern. Osha had joined them for once.

“You...when have you had time to do that?” Sandor asked in disbelief. Syrio chuckled, Osha laughed, and Brienne blushed.

“Catelyn is surrounded by at least two guards most days, so she set me to be the main guard for Jaime. She knows I won’t be tempted to strangle him, or let him go free. I guarded him a lot while we were in the field with Robb for the same reasons. We started talking one day, well, he started talking at me. Mostly insults. After a while he got bored with that. Then he started talking about random topics, the weather, his home, his family. I didn’t have much to say, whereas he had too much to say. I responded a little, whenever he asked questions. Anyway, he asked today if he could have a walk around the castle, just to stretch his legs. I told him I would speak to Catelyn about it, but when I realized I was looking forward to escorting him for that walk, should she say yes…”

“The heart is a funny thing,” Syrio commented. “It loves who it loves, and will not take ‘reason’ into account.”

“No shit. So what are you going to do about it, Maid?” Sandor asked. “About the feelings, I mean.”

“What can I do? There is no possible way he could return them,” Brienne said sadly.

Osha snorted. “Just take pleasure with the man. If he’s too daft to see the benefit of having a strong woman like yourself, then that’s his loss, not yours.”

“Osha…” Brienne said and shook her head. “I feel better having admit it though, but now I’m feeling quite awkward, so Syrio, any ladies in your view?”

Syrio deflected the question with a bawdy tale of merchant’s wife he once had to convince to not jump off the Titan.

**********

The team consisted of five people, two of which he was fairly certain could handle the entire job on their own, though the other three were just as capable. “Syrio, good travels, my friend,” he grasped the man in a brotherly hug. He turned to the shortest figure. “Wolf girl, stay safe. Your mother and sister will kill me for sending you on this mission if you die.”

“Sansa won’t kill you, and as funny as it would be to see Mother _attempt_ to kill you, I have every intention of returning home alive,” she said with a wry grin. “And I made a promise to someone that I would return.”

Sandor didn’t have to ask if that promise had been made to a certain blue-eyed blacksmith. He and Brienne had a bet going on if she would run away with him, or stay and demand to Catelyn that she be allowed to marry him. He had picked that latter.

**********

Jeyne gave birth to a healthy little boy. The entire family that was still available waited with Robb during the birth. Sandor thought he might have heard Robb muttering a prayer to “let her make it through this.” The bells tolled for the first born of the next generation of Starks. She and Robb named him Eddard, in honor of the captured patriarch.

Robb met with his bannermen a day later to discuss the next move. "You're sure you don't want me to join you?" Sandor asked him after everyone else had left.

Robb shook his head. "No, I need you to stay here and protect Winterfell. Ser Rodrick is getting on in years, and this blasted weather isn't doing him any good. If you're here, I'll know our family is safe."

Sandor bowed his head. "As you say, Lord Robb."

Robb took half his armies North a week later. Osha waved at them as they left, “Finally going in the right direction!”

A rider came from the south not even an hour after the last man left. The siege at the Twins was successful. Edmure and his wife were freed. The Freys were no longer in power, and Walder Frey had been sentenced to death. Ser Brynden had administered the sentence and then the execution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 41  
>  Catelyn - 40  
>  Robb - 21  
>  Jon - 21  
>  | Sansa - 18  
>  Arya - 16  
>  Bran - 15  
>  Rickon - 9 | Jaime - 39  
>  Sandor - 34  
>  Theon - 26  
>  Brienne - 24  
>  | Gendry - 22  
>   
> ---|---|---|---


	55. A Suitor Discussion

Sansa slammed the letters onto her writing desk angrily. Sandor was sharpening his blade. He watched her as she began to pace. Her eighteenth nameday was not long past and Cat had told her it was high time she married.

“How can I marry any of these men?!” she exclaimed. “They speak of only what a marriage to them will do for our respective families and send me nothing but pretty words with no intention. Their gifts show that they know nothing about me, have not tried to learn anything about me. How can they possibly expect to court me when they are nothing but hot air?”

“Lots of women like pretty words and flashy jewelry,” he said with a shrug. It pained him to think about her marriage, but he swore to himself he would advise her as best he could.

“Lots of dumb cunts,” she snorted. Sandor chuckled. Lady Catelyn would have admonished both of them, but fortunately, little Ned was the apple of his grandmother’s eye, and she had left the letters for Sansa to review to go be with him in the nursery. “Sandor, I cannot marry any of them. Even Willas Tyrell, who seems nice enough, but we have little in common. What am I going to do?”

He knew this day would come, but he had always thought she would be happy to marry, which would make it easier for him to let her go. Figuratively speaking. He would stay her shield. He did not trust another with her safety, husband or not. “Visit them, meet them, find out what they’re really like,” he suggested.

She sat down next to him and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I suppose. I do not want to leave Winterfell again. Bad things happen when we go south.”

“You’ll have to leave eventually. You’re a princess of the North, or as close to one as a Stark can be. The people look to your family for strength. Your duty to your family is to make a good match.”

“I did not  _ ask _ to be someone the people can look up to. I had an opportunity to be an actual princess with Joffrey, and I did not want it then either. And why can not a good match be someone who is strong, not necessarily someone who is rich? Like  _them._ " She gestured to the letters. "Not one of them is known for their fighting skills. My husband should be someone who can support Robb military-wise, with an army, with leadership. Bran and Rickon can marry for wealth. Arya and I should marry for strength. Personally, I would prefer someone I can at least be friends with, maybe even love. Do you not agree? Maybe Mother will allow me to set a condition. Any man who wants to marry me must beat my sworn shield in combat.” She grinned up at him. “It’ll be like a song.”

He chuckled, sounding hollow to himself, yet said nothing. He was starting to see that she was setting up a difficult standard for a husband. It was dangerous to agree with her, but he couldn’t bring himself to chastise her for it either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 41  
>  Catelyn - 40  
>  Robb - 21  
>  Jon - 21  
>  | Sansa - 18  
>  Arya - 16  
>  Bran - 15  
>  Rickon - 9 | Jaime - 39  
>  Sandor - 34  
>  Theon - 26  
>  Brienne - 24  
>  | Gendry - 22  
>   
> ---|---|---|---


	56. Trying To Learn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairs with ch2 of Companion For Life

Sansa dragged him to the godswood every so often and made him sit beneath the weirwood tree to hold her. She did this whenever she felt overwhelmed by fear, anger, or other negative emotions. He didn’t mind, of course. He even allowed himself to enjoy it, to enjoy the fact that she came to him for comfort. He would hold her and for the brief time they spent in the godswood, he would allow himself to pretend she sought comfort from him because she felt something for him, and not because he was just her most trusted friend and protector. He couldn’t tell her no when she asked him to be her practice partner after surprising him with a kiss.

“I want to practice,” she explained.

“Practice?” He gave her a dubious look. He didn’t want her _practicing_. Practicing meant her husband would be just about the luckiest man in the whole fucking world, and Sandor was already jealous of this unknown man.

“Yes, for...um...my future husband, whoever he may be,” she said, looking up at him. He should have said no. He was about to, then she started listing reasons why it should be him. “I trust you. You would be honest about how I’m doing, you would tell me if I’m doing something wrong, or being silly, or stupid, or...or...anything else I need to know.” She looked up at him, those big soulful eyes he could never say no to. “I’m sorry, I should have asked first. I just got so ahead of myself.”

He let his head fall back against the weirwood. The pain from hitting the bark let him know he wasn’t dreaming. _Fuck. She’s really asking me this? I should say no. This will only end in heartbreak, MY heartbreak. If I say no...would she end up asking someone else? Bugger me with a hot poker._ “Exactly what do you want to ‘practice’ on me?” he asked, regretting it already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's doomed. Dead man walking. No going back now.
> 
> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 41  
>  Catelyn - 40  
>  Robb - 21  
>  Jon - 21  
>  | Sansa - 18  
>  Arya - 16  
>  Bran - 15  
>  Rickon - 9 | Jaime - 39  
>  Sandor - 34  
>  Theon - 26  
>  Brienne - 24  
>  | Gendry - 22  
>   
> ---|---|---|---


	57. Return of the Stark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairs with ch 3 of Companion

Ned was back. Jory was back. _All_ of the Stark men had returned. It had taken nearly six months (though four of those had been travel time), but Syrio, Arya, Alyn, Cayn, and Harwin had managed to pull it off. All of the men were emaciated, and the nearly two months of covert travel back to Winterfell hadn’t done them any favors, but the entire castle rejoiced at their return. A feast was set to be held as soon as possible, and as soon as Maester Luwin cleared them for merriment. Ice was recovered as well, and sent immediately to Robb in the war against the White Walkers. Sandor wondered what it was about Valyrian steel that was so effective against the nightmare in the North.

**********

Arya sat with him on the wall walk as they both watched for the rider. Robb had sent messengers down weekly. This one was late. The previous news hadn’t been good. Every available fighter was heading towards the wall, even as far south as Dorne. Only the bare minimum were staying behind at the various strongholds. Even Sandor was pulling triple duty, being a sworn shield, being a watchman, even being a guard for Jaime Lannister on occasion. Only the people from the West and the capital stayed away. Sansa worried that they might take this time to attack, but King’s Landing was in a huge disarray. Cersei had created a monster of a power in the Faith Militant and she was currently warring with them. In addition, he had heard stories of the Iron Bank of Braavos and how they were also coming for the crown. Syrio told many fascinatingly bloody stories about how the Bank “had its due.”

Finally a rider approached. The Northmen were winning, but at a terrible cost. In a rare bit of humor, Robb wrote that it would go a lot better if the “dragon queen from across the Narrow Sea would get off her arse and fly over to help.”

**********

Catelyn called him to her solar two days after that. She was sitting with her grandson Ned again, but something was troubling her. Her husband Ned was beside her, still looking frail, but much better than when he had first come back. Her maid offered him tea before leaving.

“Clegane, do you remember my friend Petyr Baelish?” she asked without preamble.

“I do, from the time he came to Winterfell to challenge Brandon, and during the time spent at King’s Landing.”

“You are possibly the only person we can trust to tell me the truth.” She handed him a letter before continuing, “He has sent a marriage proposal. Has been sending them since I returned to Winterfell. He wishes to unite the Vale with the North. Two marriages, in fact, his and mine, and Sansa with a young lord named Harry Hardyng. My advisors say to go ahead with the one for Sansa, but an approval of this weighs heavily on my heart. Petyr was always a dear friend, but...I fear what will happen if we do allow Sansa to wed his ward. In addition, he married my sister as his first wife. Her death was tragic, but he is not yet a widower a year and he sends me these missives.”

“Must not have heard of my return, though I’m not sure why he thinks I’m  _ dead _ ,” Ned commented.

“It does not bode well, but our advisors say it is just the thing to help the North. What is your opinion, based on what you know of him?”

“She’s not taking my opinion seriously, seeing as how I absolutely abhor the man from my time as Hand,” Ned said with a grin. “In my defense, he was quite horrible.” Catelyn shushed him.

Sandor gave them a small smile. “My lady, I think you know already what you wish to do and are only looking for someone else to support your decision. Personally I would say no, you shouldn’t trust the man. I...Do you know how I got these scars?” he asked her. She shook her head. Ned didn’t know either, despite meeting him when the wound was still new. “Very few do. I hadn’t even told Sansa, and you know how close we are. I intended to tell her, someday, or if she ever asked. Lord Baelish somehow found out, and he told her before I could. He did not know that I was close with Sansa, or maybe just refused to believe it, and he attempted to frighten her with the story, trying to sow discord or just make her feel like she would be in danger from me. I don’t know, but I take it as a personal offense that he would do that to my charge.”

“I had no idea. She never mentioned it.” Catelyn looked pensive. Ned was shaking his head, muttering something under his breath.

“She’s a lady. She wouldn’t,” Sandor said, shrugging. “What of Hardyng? Will he be a good husband for her?”

“Possibly, though I am concerned about the stories I’ve heard of him. He already has one bastard, and he seems well on his way to making more. Lyanna was right to doubt Ned’s assurances of Robert,” Ned had the decency to look guilty, “and I fear this Hardyng will be the same. In addition, Sansa is dragging her feet on marriage, and I cannot blame her. I see where her heart lies, and she does not want to be unfaithful, but she cannot see how the union is possible.” He felt his heart clench at the thought of his little bird being in love. Part of him wanted her to be happy, but the other wanted to find out who the man was and gut him like a deer. Catelyn looked up at Sandor. He thought she was expecting an answer, but he had no idea what the question was and remained quiet. “Do you know why I disliked you all those years?”

He honestly hadn’t thought about it. “No. Didn’t seem like a big deal.”

She laughed. “You never were one for others’ opinion of you, were you? Well, it was stubbornness and mistrust on my part. You had very little to do with it, as it turns out. I allowed the rumors and harsh truths about your family to cloud my judgement. Specifically, your brother. I judged you on what I heard of him, and that was unfair of me. I apologize for that.”

“Water under the bridge. Don’t worry yourself about it,” he said lightly. He meant it, but clearly, Lady Stark wanted to ease her conscience. Ned patted her hand as encouragement.

“Well, I said you had very little to do with it,” she said with a sheepish smile. “There was one more thing. Another reason was your ability to ingratiate yourself with everyone without using flattery. You didn’t even try, and you only spoke bluntly, when you deigned to speak at all. You saw the truth and you spoke it. You saw the ugliness in me, and you didn’t judge me on it, even tried to help me correct it. I did not appreciate it at the time, but, thank you. I made some grave mistakes with my children because of my dislike, but I hope to make it up to them.”

“I was just trying to look out for the family, Cat…” He was getting embarrassed by her words and wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

“Clegane… Sandor, do you love my daughter?”

He looked down at his hands, “I care about all the Starks, my lady.”

He could practically  _ hear _ the smile in her words. Was she mocking him? “I know. I’ve been sure of that for some time, as I have been sure of your love for my eldest daughter. Answer honestly. Are you in love with her?”

His jaw tightened, but he said, “I am, my lady. But I know my place is as her shield. I am sixteen years her senior, thirty-four to her eighteen, almost nineteen, years. I have only a small estate to my name, one that a castellan looks after, since I cannot bring myself to go visit. I am not worthy of her, in any standing.”

Ned spoke, “Before the Boltons treachery, Robb had briefly considered making a match between Sansa and Ramsey, if he decided to petition Stannis to legitimize the man. It seems to me, that you are a much better match, temperament and personality wise, at least.” He paused and looked at his friend. “And if a bastard as vile as Ramsey Snow was considered, then why not a loyal and honorable man of the Starks?”

“My lord, you know why. I am second born of a minor house--” It was Catelyn who silenced him with a firm hand.

“All houses started off small, and you are no longer ‘just a second born’ son. You are Lord Clegane of Clegane Keep. As for making your house larger, we are still in need of a lord of the Dreadfort. The Twins as well, but we’d prefer if you were closer to Winterfell, though Edmure could be convinced to give you that one, should you prefer it. We need someone who can handle himself under pressure, keep a level head, keep the peace with the smallfolk, and come to our aid when we need it.” She smiled at him, and he felt hopeful, but it seemed too good to be true.

“The Northern lords would not accept me…”

“They would,” Ned said. “They know you, know of your loyalty, your valor in battle. They won’t contest this appointment, nor your marriage.” 

Catelyn spoke, “My Uncle Brynden has been in charge of cleaning up the Dreadfort these past few months, ever since he left the Twins, but he will need to get back to Riverrun soon to help Edmure. You would not believe the horrors the Boltons kept in the dungeons. Uncle Brynden held a huge bonfire, to show the smallfolk that sort of thing will not be happening any longer. The people look forward to a new lord. You would be in charge of building an army as well as rebuilding the lands. The people there have had a hard time under the thumb of the Boltons. If you can handle the responsibility that comes with it, I will make sure you get it. With that, you will be elevated to Sansa’s station, and can ask for her hand in marriage. Or not. As lord of the Dreadfort, you will have your choice of brides.”

“I never thought I would marry, my lady, but if I did, I could never consider anyone other than Sansa,” he said softly.

“Good! Then you will consider this offer then,” Catelyn said with a smile, cooing at the babe in her arms. “Take a few days to think about it. I’m sure you’ll make the right decision.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 41  
>  Catelyn - 40  
>  Robb - 21  
>  Jon - 21  
>  | Sansa - 18  
>  Arya - 16  
>  Bran - 15  
>  Rickon - 9 | Jaime - 39  
>  Sandor - 34  
>  Theon - 26  
>  Brienne - 24  
>  | Gendry - 22  
>   
> ---|---|---|---


	58. Forbidden Fabric

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairs with ch 4 of Companion

Sandor stood on the wall walk two days later, watching for any sign of movement outside the fortress of Winterfell. His only hint that he was not alone was the barest of sounds, and then a knife was at his throat.

“If I was your enemy, you would be dead right now,” Arya told him from her perch behind him, bringing her to his height.

“If you were my enemy, you would be as well,” he said, his short sword jabbing her lightly in the stomach. She made a slightly impressed face.

“You’ve been pensive lately. And avoiding Sansa,” Arya said, leaping down gracefully from her perch.

“Can’t avoid her, I’m her shield.”

Arya laughed. “And yet, you’ve been avoiding her. She hates it when you do that, but she figured you were trying to work something out. So she sent me. What is troubling you, Hound?”

“Looks like we’re not the only ones concerned, then.” Brienne and Jory appeared from the opposite side of Arya. Brienne was helping Jory along. Maester Luwin had ordered all the returned men to start taking daily walks. “We noticed something was different,” Brienne said.

“Does this have anything to do with the lordship my parents offered you?” Arya asked.

Sandor frowned at her, ignoring the congratulations from Brienne and Jory. “How do you know about that?”

She shrugged, “I have my ways. Sansa doesn’t know about it, if that’s what you’re worried about. She’d probably have a panic attack from the excitement.”

He sighed heavily, “I know, she wouldn’t want me to stop being her shield. I don’t plan on taking it anyway.”

“What?! Why not?” Arya cried. “You can finally ask her to marry you. And she’ll be allowed to say yes!”

“Sandor, why would you turn it down?” Brienne asked.

“He doesn’t know,” Jory said, chuckling. “By the gods, I thought you would have figured it out by now.”

Sandor glared at him. “What don’t I know?”

“You don’t know how she feels about you,” he said very matter of factly. Arya and Brienne were both shocked.

His confidence in his relationship with his little bird was wavering, “She looks up to me. She trusts me, to keep her confidences, to keep her safe. She sees me as her friend...”

Arya barked out laughter. Sandor truly thought she would fall over the wall, she was laughing so hard. Even Brienne was laughing though she was at least trying to hide it. Jory was just grinning.

“What the fuck is so funny?!”

“She’s in love with you, you  _ moron _ ,” Arya howled, still laughing. “She’s been in love with you for as long as I can remember. Probably as long as  _ she _ can remember.”

“She’s right, Sandor,” Brienne said kindly. “Lady Sansa loves you. If you asked her to marry you without having the lordship, she would run away from all this,” she gestured to Winterfell, “just to be with you.”

He gave them an odd look. “She wouldn’t. Would she?”

“I’m going to tell you something, and then you decide for yourself,” Arya said, still grinning like mad, but she had stopped laughing. “Do you remember when we were children, and Sansa got really depressed for a whole month? It was over a dress.”

“Yes,” he said, not sure what that had anything to do with his current situation. “She wasn’t allowed to use some fabric she had been wanting.”

“Do you know why she wasn’t allowed to use the fabric?”

“Not really. It was a long time ago. Something about the color was inappropriate?” He really couldn’t remember that very well.

Arya took a deep breath and said slowly, like she was speaking to a child who was refusing to understand, “It was autumn yellow with black.”

“What’s so wrong with--” He stopped. “Autumn yellow…”

“Yep.”

“With black…”

“That’s what I said.” She looked gleeful as the realization hit him. “Told you, ever since I can remember, and  _ that’s _ one of my first memories. I have loads more, including just last week, when she gave you that tunic she made you. You’re the only one outside the family that she does that for.”

Every instance he could think of flashed through his mind, applying this newfound knowledge to each one. They were right. “She loves me…”

“She did say she was going to marry you when she was three,” Jory pointed out. “It was the talk of the castle for weeks. Even then it was obvious how she felt.”

“Oh, I heard about that,” Brienne said. “And how she defended him to Lady Catelyn on numerous occasions.”

“Don’t forget how she takes care of him when he’s sick or upset,” Jory said. “Or how she seeks him out first when  _ she’s _ upset. It’s like they’re married already.”

“I...I have to go talk to Lord and Lady Stark…” he mumbled. 

He thought he heard Arya say, “Damn right, you do.”

“Not a word about this from any of you!” he yelled behind him.

**********

“You want me to wait to tell her?” Sandor asked.

“Just a little while. You need to go to the Dreadfort to settle things there, and if Sansa knows beforehand, she will want to go with you, and it would take longer. We’ll tell her we need you for a diplomatic mission. Write her a letter to explain everything, and after a sennight, we’ll give it to her. There is still a chance she’ll try to follow you, but I will get her started on the wedding preparations as a way to deter that.”

“Cat, I really don’t think that’s necessary…” Ned started. She shushed him.

“I have to agree, Lady Stark, I don’t think she would--”

“She might not, but better safe than sorry, wouldn’t you say?” Catelyn said, in way that gave Sandor pause to argue more.

“Alright, we’ll go along with your plan,” he said, but he felt doubt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I'm horrible. 
> 
> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 41  
>  Catelyn - 40  
>  Robb - 21  
>  Jon - 21  
>  | Sansa - 18  
>  Arya - 16  
>  Bran - 15  
>  Rickon - 9 | Jaime - 39  
>  Sandor - 34  
>  Theon - 26  
>  Brienne - 24  
>  | Gendry - 22  
>   
> ---|---|---|---


	59. Stories, Forgiveness and Revenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairs with ch 5 of Companion

“Getting in was easy. We snuck inside using the tunnels I found when I got lost one day during a dancing lesson.” Arya bit into the meat viciously, enjoying being the center of attention. Several soldiers, including Brienne and Osha, were hanging onto her every word. Sandor was as well, but he made an effort not to _look_ like it. Now that he had made a decision and accepted the lordship, he would be leaving on the morrow to the Dreadfort. He was trying to enjoy his last night in Winterfell for the next month or so.

“After that, we had to find the way to the black tunnels. The Spider had sent one of his little birds to us with directions when we were near the crossroads inn, but it still took a while before we could find them. The black cells is a large section, and we could only explore so much at a time. Varys and the little Lannister had left Westeros by then, so they could only provide so much information,” she said after chewing and swallowing her food. “We had to avoid the regular guards as well as the black cell guards. Even worse, their schedules are not consistent at all. The disorder in the capital is incredible. On one hand, it helped cover our movements, but on the other, it made our work harder as well. We were only able to sneak them out in small groups, three to four at a time as we found them, and it took several sweeps to make sure we got everyone. Father was in the sixth group. He wanted to help, but…” she paused, a disconcerned look on her face. “He was better equipped to stay at the base we made and help on that end.” The group listening was nodding along as she told of the intense trip back to the North, always looking over their shoulders, expecting soldiers to be after them at any moment, but never encountering them.

Sandor wanted to ask about her pause, but he already suspected. She was remembering her once strong father, and how she found a severely weakened man. He wanted to assure her that Ned Stark would grow strong once again, but it would be better to wait until the others had departed the table. She scoffed at him when he told her, and punched his arm, telling him, “Of course he will, moron,” but he saw the relief in her eyes. Sometimes you just need someone to tell you it will be ok, even if by all rights, you know it for yourself.

**********

A rider brought the good news before he left Winterfell. The dragon queen had ridden in with her three dragons, sending the frozen undead army to the next world in fiery haste. The war for the Far North was turning.

Sandor was glad he had stayed behind at Winterfell as the rider described the arrival of the queen in horrifically intense and fiery detail. He was also glad that he would be able breathe easier while he took some time to visit the Dreadfort and see Ser Brynden about changing the reins over to him.

**********

He went to the Dreadfort with an uneasy feeling in his gut, leaving a distressed Sansa behind. She had asked to go with him, which he had to refuse, even if he would have preferred it. Her distaste for leaving Winterfell apparently did not apply if it meant a trip with him. He had thought she would kiss him goodbye when she got a certain look in her eye, had been hoping for it since he had been avoiding their practice sessions, but Jory came to find him before she had a chance and she had run off after giving him a very rushed farewell. He growled at Jory, but couldn’t find Sansa again before he had to leave. He was really regretting avoiding the practice sessions as he and Stranger trudged away from Winterfell.

Neither he nor her parents had told her why he was going, a plan he disliked more and more, but he had already agreed and now it was too late to change his mind. Catelyn assured him it would all work itself out in the end.

Syrio and Brienne took over his shield duties while he was away. He trusted them implicitly, but he had a constant feeling of unease every moment he was apart from her. It took him a few days to realize it was because he had never _been_ apart from her for more than half a day since he had returned from fighting the Ironborn with Robert and Ned. The Blackfish found this observation amusing at the small welcome dinner held for the new lord. He was pleased to meet many of the tenants, including the new cook and the current blacksmith and his two apprentices. The food was delicious, and the work by the blacksmith was exceptional. He felt guilty thinking it, since Mikken had forged his armor and his swords over the years and both he and Gendry were exceptional as well. However, it would be fitting if this blacksmith or his apprentices were willing and able to help him with a project he had been thinking about for several years now, but hadn’t had the gall to go through with.

A message from Sansa arrived a few days after he did, admonishing him for keeping her in the dark and saying she should refuse his offer for her hand, which made his heart stop, but then saying she wouldn’t. She promised to get him back for it. Her anger was very clear in her handwriting. The Blackfish laughed at that one. “You left her the news in a letter? I’m not sure what you were expecting then, boy. My niece means well, but she knows her children far less well than you do. You should have gone with your instinct on that one.” Sandor nodded in agreement and swore to himself that he’d make it up to Sansa, as well as accept any punishment she’d have waiting for him.

Another message arrived the day after, apologizing and professing her love, promising she will be a good wife to him and how she wished she could be there with him to prove it to him. His face went a bit red at that, as he thought of the many ways he would have wanted to prove himself to Sansa, and he wondered if she knew what she was writing. A third message arrived later that same day, saying that she had started working on her maiden’s cloak and wedding dress, as well as his cloak, and that if he could please send back the ravens, her mother had yelled at her for using so many in such a short span of time. He laughed long and hard at that last one. Penning a reply, he told her if she limits herself to writing him once a sennight, her mother wouldn’t be as upset. He promised to write back the same day he received her letters and he would be back as soon as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 41  
>  Catelyn - 40  
>  Robb - 21  
>  Jon - 21  
>  | Sansa - 18  
>  Arya - 16  
>  Bran - 15  
>  Rickon - 9 | Jaime - 39  
>  Sandor - 34  
>  Theon - 26  
>  Brienne - 24  
>  | Gendry - 22  
>   
> ---|---|---|---


	60. Reunions, Revenge & Requited Love

The greeting he received when he returned to Winterfell could have gone better. Shaggydog, Nymeria, Lady, Ghost and Grey Wind were part of the advance party. He was surprised to see Jaime Lannister riding with Brienne to meet him.

“The Hound returns,” Jaime called out jovially.

“Kingslayer, you’re looking...free,” he replied.

Jaime laughed, “You know, you’re the only person who says it without it sounding like an insult. I like you. Missed having you as a guard as well.”

Sandor snorted. “The sentiment remains to returned. Brienne,” he said, turning to his friend, “Where is everyone? Where’s Sansa? If no one else, I at least expected her to ride out to greet me.”

“I guess you didn’t get the message before you left then,” she said. “We have guests. Petyr Baelish and his goodson Lord Robert Arryn are visiting from the Vale, along with Lord Robert’s heir, Harrold Hardyng. Lord Baelish’s reaction to seeing Lord Stark was...interesting, to say the least. “

“Baelish nearly bugged his eyes out when he saw Stark,” Jaime supplied helpfully. “I think he might have even said ‘I thought you were dead’. Curious reaction.”

Brienne tsked him and continued, “Sansa has been mostly hiding in her room since just after they got here. Ser Jaime has proven himself trustworthy and he has taken my place to guard Sansa, since Lord Eddard feels it best that Lady Catelyn has me around while Lord Baelish is visiting.”

“Even went as far as to renounce my father and sister, and my inheritance of Casterly Rock," he said proudly.

"Not your brother?"  


"Never him. He's an ass, but he's my favorite ass." Jaime smiled broadly.  


“Syrio and Lady Arya have been with her all morning, as well as Lady and Nymeria, until the call went out that you were nearby. I’m guessing they sent them out to greet you in their stead.” Lady looked at him with her wolf grin, her tongue lolling out. “Jon is visiting as well. Robb returned and brought him for a visit, as well as news that the dragon queen will be visiting in a few months. Rickon is ecstatic to see if she brings her dragons. Lady Catelyn is not. The dragon queen sent out messages that all the lords of the land are to converge on Winterfell in four months for a treaty. On the plus side, she sent money and workers to build extra lodgings to house all these people. You might have seen the beginnings of it as you rode in. Afterward, the lodgings will be given to the Wildlings that wish to swear fealty to the Starks.” 

“Why here?”

Jaime replied, “Because it’s so far north, and anyone who comes will have to leave their armies behind. There is no place to hide them, save maybe the Wolfswood. Even that is a half day away. She’s trying to isolate them to keep them from raising an army together. She and Stannis are currently in peace talks from what I understand, but they will both come here once they are done. After that, they’ll likely head to the capital and depose my sister from the Iron Throne, if they should fail to attend the Summit. I wish the Queen the best of luck, but I doubt she’ll need it. Come, your lady is anxious for your return.”

**********

He went directly to Sansa’s chambers once he was back inside the main Winterfell castle. Stranger was tired enough to put up with the head groom and not bite anyone, so he wasn’t particularly worried about that.

Syrio was outside the door, gave Sandor a smile and nodded a greeting. He opened the door to see Sansa and Arya were inside. Sansa was embroidering and Arya was talking her ear off. They both looked up when he entered. Sansa dropped her embroidery and ran to him, launching herself into his arms like she had done as a child, only he didn’t need to kneel to catch her now.

Arya laughed. “I’ll leave to give you two some privacy. Keep it decent though, I’d rather not get yelled at by Mother. I’m taking Syrio with me. I’ll be with Gendry if you need me for anything. Welcome back,  _ Lord _ Sandor.” She laughed some more as she exited the room, closing the door behind her.

“Sansa, I’ve--” She slapped him, though she was still smiling. It smarted. “Ow.”

“ _ That’s _ for telling me of our betrothal in a letter.” He couldn’t protest that. She pulled him down into a kiss. He thought he was going to melt into a puddle from happiness. “That’s me saying I forgive you.”

“Sansa…”

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do that without calling it ‘practice’,” Sansa whispered. “You were saying?”

He took a moment to recollect his thoughts. “Oh, I was just going to say, I’ve missed you.”

She smiled at him. “I’ve missed you, too, my love. My Sandor.” She pulled him down again, this time for a light, chaste kiss. “I will never let anyone come between us,” she said fiercely.

A warning rang out in Sandor’s head. “Did something happen?” he asked.

“You know me too well,” she said. Taking his hand, she pulled him over to sit on the bed with her. “Lord Baelish is in Winterfell with my cousin, Robert Arryn and Lord Harrold Hardyng.”

“Brienne and the Kingslayer told me.”

“The first day he was here, he said some things… I think he was going to try to get me to change my mind about our betrothal. I did not know what he was capable of, so I locked myself away here. Arya keeps me company mostly. Brienne, too. Mother as well, when she has time, but she is also busy with preparations for the Queen’s Summit in addition to playing hostess. The only time I leave my room is when I must go hear petitions with Father, and I insist on at least three people being around me. Lord Baelish is often skulking around, but I refuse to let him find me alone.”

“Do you think he could convince you to break the betrothal?” Sandor asked hesitantly.

“What? Oh, no, of course not.” She waved the notion away. “I’m more afraid of him trying and failing, and then seeing what he would do next. I just...I have a bad feeling about him. I remember him a bit from our time in King’s Landing, and I remember what he said about you. Father doesn’t trust him either, and encourages me to stay in a group.”

Sandor could not argue with that. “Before we go find your mother, I have something for you. A few things, actually, but only one thing on my person right now.” He brought out a necklace, a round silver pendant hanging from it. She gasped as she saw it. A lone black hound sat on a ring of silver, a little red bird fluttering above him, hanging from the top of the ring by the tips of its outstretched wings. “Many of the Bolton possessions were burned, their treasures either sold or melted down to become something new. I requested this be made for the new Lady of the estate. The blacksmith there has two apprentices, one of which specializes in detailed work like this. When he heard it was for you, he set about finding the best pieces of silver to use for it. The bird is his masterpiece in this. Though the dog is a close second. See, the way it shimmers? It’s made of dozens of ruby pieces, embedded into the silver. He had to be quick and place them just so in order to achieve the effect. The dog is of onyx.” 

“Sandor...it is us?” He nodded. “It is so beautiful,” she whispered. He smiled and placed the chain over her head, sweeping her hair back over it. “Thank you, my love,” she said, kissing him again.

**********

“Ser Jaime has been trying to make reparations to our family. He has changed from the person he once was. Brienne, I believe, is a major factor in this. A while ago, some of the guards were being  _ dishonorable _ to Ser Jaime when he was still in his cell. Brienne saved him, nearly at the cost of her own life. She kept this information to herself, however. I only found out recently. He was trying to repay her at first, but slowly, he began to change. She makes him a better man. He wants to swear his vows to Father, who is reluctant, but Ser Jaime is understanding. He says he will fight for the Starks and the Warden Of The North until his dying day, vows or not.”

“Sounds like a vow to me,” Sandor commented. Sansa laughed. Lady was happily running around them in circles as they walked.

“Ser Jaime is very...passionate about some things. Brienne is one, his loyalty is another. Brienne trusts him, and I trust Brienne. I also trust that my soon to be lord husband will keep me safe should Ser Jaime ever prove himself to be undeserving of Brienne’s faith in him,” she said smiling.

He turned his head to say another jape at Lannister’s expense, when they were interrupted by a voice from across the courtyard. “Lady Sansa!”

“I swear, I cannot be rid of this man, he is like a parasite on my shadow,” she whispered to Sandor before smiling her fake smile. 

He saw the approaching group that included Lord Baelish, Lady Stark, Robb, Lord Commander Snow of the Night’s Watch, Brienne, Ser Jaime, a handsome young man that was probably Hardyng, and a young, sickly looking boy that Sandor could only assume to be Lord Robert “Sweetrobin” Arryn. Lady ran ahead of them to greet her brothers, Grey Wind and Ghost. Nymeria appeared as well, meaning Arya was lurking about, probably at the blacksmith’s area still. Rickon and Shaggydog were nowhere to be seen, but that didn’t mean they weren’t around. Rickon and Shaggy had a tendency of following Sansa and Lady. A large man followed them. It took him a moment, but he recognized the man from the Tourney of the Hand in King’s Landing.  _ Lothar Brune. _

“Lady Sansa. How delightful to see you out and about. And who is this...person?” Lord Baelish asked.

Sandor wanted to snort. There was no way Littlefucker wouldn’t recognize him. Catelyn saved him the trouble. “Petyr, this is Lord Sandor Clegane. Recently he was Sansa’s sworn shield and interim Master of Arms of Winterfell. Now he is Lord of the Dreadfort and Sansa’s betrothed.”

“How high you have risen,  _ ser,” _ Baelish said with a derisive grin. 

“Not as high as you, Lord of Harrenhal, since you started so much lower. And he is not a ser,” Sansa said stiffly. “Thankfully.”

“You are  _ happy _ he’s not a knight?” Hardyng asked her. He seemed genuinely confused.

“Most knights I have encountered are not worthy of the title,” she said coolly. “San-- Lord Clegane is better than a knight.” She looked up at him adoringly.  _ Because you’re Sandor, _ he heard her voice say from a long lost memory. He still couldn’t believe that she loved him, or that he had missed it for so long.  _ Probably better this way. Would have driven myself insane knowing the truth and knowing I couldn’t have her. Or done something stupid, like run away. _

“So he is not one for vows then?” Baelish asked. “How can you trust his word?”

“He only makes vows he intends to keep. I have never known him to go back on his word,” Catelyn said helpfully. Baelish gave the briefest of scowls. One of the good things about Catelyn’s stubbornness, once you had her loyalty, it was hard to lose it.

“Well, isn’t that  _ nice _ ,” Baelish said through a tight smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 41  
>  Catelyn - 40  
>  Robb - 21  
>  Jon - 21  
>  | Sansa - 18  
>  Arya - 16  
>  Bran - 15  
>  Rickon - 9 | Jaime - 39  
>  Sandor - 34  
>  Theon - 26  
>  Brienne - 24  
>  | Gendry - 22  
>   
> ---|---|---|---


	61. How To Piss Off The North

_ “Sandor!!” _

He woke from sleep instantly, grabbing his sword and running out the door without sparing a moment. He ran into Brune in the hallway. He noticed an unconscious household guard on the floor behind him. He thought it might be Ches, who was scheduled for castle patrol duty. “Out of my way,” he growled at the slightly shorter man.

“Sorry for this, Hound,” Lothor said, taking a swing at him. Sandor dodged it easily.

“You can shove your damned apology where the sun don’t shine,” he snarled, knocking Lothor into the stone wall. The man slid down, unconscious.

_ “Sandor!!” _

He stepped over Lothor’s legs and kicked open the door, grateful it hadn’t been bolted. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the household guard running towards him as he stepped inside Sansa’s room, Catelyn and Robb among them.

Harrold Hardyng was holding Sansa down, attempting to kiss her, but also needing to keep her quiet. The Hound pulled him off of her and threw him across the room. Catelyn and Robb rushed in, Catelyn running to Sansa, while Robb attempted to keep him from killing Hardyng.

“Guards, seize this man,” Robb said, pointing to Hardyng and pushing the Hound back.  _ “Lord Clegane, _ I must insist you either step aside or attend to your betrothed. She is  _ distressed _ .”

That snapped him back. He nodded to Robb and turned back to Sansa. Catelyn handed over the duty of comforting Sansa to Sandor, “I’ll go with the escort for Hardyng. Once you have composed yourselves, join us at the dungeon. I would like to settle this matter quickly.”

**********

Sansa washed her face thoroughly three times, then insisted on Sandor kissing her. “I refuse to let  _ that man’s _ lips be the last that kissed me,” she said angrily. Then softly, “Please, my love, erase the feeling. I only ever want you to kiss me like that,” she begged. They were both breathing heavily by the time she felt she would only remember his kisses. 

“We...we should probably get downstairs,” she muttered. It took a few more minutes before Sandor was calm enough to walk, and a few more minutes after that for him to retrieve a tunic and his boots. In his rush to get to Sansa, he had run out of his room wearing only breeches and a light undershirt. “I always imagined you didn’t wear anything to bed,” she whispered.

He chuckled, “Too cold to do that. Maybe once I’m married and have a sweet wife to keep me warm. Though I’ll insist she wear the exact same amount of clothing as me.”

Sansa blushed, but smiled. “I’m sure the woman lucky enough to marry you will be  _ more  _ than happy to comply.”

**********

Catelyn and Sansa stood near the cell, but out of Hardyng’s line of sight. Sandor, Ned and Robb were standing right outside the cell, while Arya and Syrio were in the cell with the prisoner. It was Arya who was given the task of questioning him. It made Sandor wonder exactly what happened on the rescue mission if she was given such a responsibility. Hardyng had a black eye, a split lip and a trail of dried blood coming from his hairline. Sandor was pretty sure the cut on his head was from when he was thrown across the room, but the black eye must have either been from Sansa fighting him off or one of the guards didn’t take kindly to someone trying to hurt their Lady Sansa. He was tied to a chair, with Arya sitting across from him.

“Do you want to die?” she asked calmly.

“What?” Hardyng asked. Sandor felt a tinge of glee at the alarm in the man’s voice.

“Do. You. Want. To. Die,” she repeated calmly, revealing a dagger in her hand. “If you do not answer me, or if any of us believe you to be lying, I will cut you. If I cut you enough times, you will bleed to death. I’ve only ever done this once before, and last time it didn’t take as many cuts as it should have. The man died before I could finish my questions.” She sighed, giving the impression that she had been more upset her questions had gone unanswered than anything else. “If you’re not going to answer, then I will have to assume the worst, and I will kill you. That’s my beloved older sister you were assaulting.” 

“I’ll answer!”

“Good,” Arya said, smiling broadly and standing up. “Now, why did you go to Sansa’s room?”

“I...I wanted to try to convince her to marry me instead of the Hound.” 

“How did you intend to do that? Because from what I understand, you were  _ not _ talking with her when they found you,” Arya said, walking behind Hardyng and gliding the cold metal along the skin of his neck.

“I  _ was  _ talking, at first. Then she started to close the door on me. I was desperate! I pushed my way into the room, trying to make her see reason, that the Hound couldn’t possibly make her happy,” he said in a rush. “Then she screamed for him, so I tried to hurry and prove my point. I was only trying to show her how I could make her happy, I wasn’t going to go any farther than kissing her. I swear it!”

Sandor glanced at Sansa. Her hands were clenched into fists, but she wasn’t disputing anything in Hardyng’s account of what happened. Yet…

“He’s lying,” Sandor growled. The look on Hardyng’s face reinforced his belief. “A dog can sniff out a lie. You didn’t go there to  _ just talk. _ Lothor Brune, he was out in the hallway. He, or maybe you, knocked out one of the guards on patrol. He attempted to stop me from helping Sansa by using force. If you were  _ just talking, _ then why bring muscle to watch your back?”

“I...I…” Arya’s dagger was quicker than the eye and Hardyng cried out as she sliced his forearm.

“Oh, such a shame. Looks like I cut a little too deeply. This is the inn all over again,” she said in disappointment. 

“Lord Baelish said if I took her by force, she would have no choice but to marry me!” he cried out. “Her honor as a Stark and as a Northerner would demand it.”

If Sansa had been angry before, it was nothing compared to what Catelyn looked like now. Ned saw this, and nodded to Robb, who left to find Littlefucker. 

“He  _ told _ you to rape her?!” Arya asked. Sandor could see the blade trembling from anger, but she kept her hand and did not cut him out of spite.

“No, I mean, he just mentioned it in passing. Once he saw how... _ attached _ Lady Sansa is to her sworn shield…”

“Betrothed,” Arya interrupted.

“Sorry?”

“You said, ‘sworn shield’. Lord Sandor Clegane,  _ close  _ family friend to the Starks, is no longer her sworn shield, he is her  _ betrothed _ . There is a significant difference. Continue.”

“Uh, well, when he saw how attached Lady Sansa was to...Lord Clegane...he said that the only way to save her from him would be by force.”

“Save her?” Arya asked with a frown.

“Clearly, she is under the illusion that she is in love with him. Or maybe he intimidated her until she believed it.” His eyes flicked up to Sandor before returning to Arya. “I mean, look at him.”

Catelyn had to hold Sansa back on that one. 

Arya’s jaw clenched. “And you believe this makes you noble? Honorable? To rape a woman in order to keep her from the man she chose to marry?”

Hardyng frowned. “Chose? As in, she asked him?!”

Arya just smiled at that. “You hadn’t heard of how this match came to be?”

_ Technically not a lie. The wolf-girl is a clever one. _

“No, I thought...I mean...Lord Baelish said…” Hardyng fumbled for words, his eyes taking on a slightly panicked look. He turned to Sandor. “My lord, I apologize, I thought…I never would have...”

Sandor turned his head at the sound of approaching footsteps. Robb was approaching with Petyr Baelish.

Arya whispered something in Hardyng’s ear, sheathing her dagger and then began tending to his wounds. Sandor hadn’t even seen the medical kit with her.

“What is the meaning of this?” Baelish asked. “I demand you release Harry at once.”

“I’m sorry, Lord Baelish,” Ned said, “But he has committed a grievous crime against the Starks.”

“What crime?” Baelish asked, his beady eyes narrowing. “He looks more damaged than anyone here! Who did that to him?!”

“That was me, Lord Baelish,” Sansa said, stepping forward. 

“You, Lady Sansa?” he said in disbelief. 

“Yes, I injured him as I was trying to defend myself from his... _ advances _ ,” she hissed. “They were most unwelcome and not honorable at all. My sister is tending to him, as you can see. I managed to get to my dagger before he could stop me, but I am not particularly skilled with it and may have put too much force behind it.”

“As for the crime,” Ned chimed in, “We take attempted rape very seriously here. He will be given a trial, but considering he was caught in the act and has confessed to his intentions, he will be found guilty and punished as according to our laws.”

“Sent to the Wall then?” Baelish didn’t look fazed by that.  _ Probably thinks he can pay the Black Brothers to give Hardyng back. _

“No, death.” No one blinked. Hardyng looked like he was about to faint. Sandor knew it was a lie. Only rapers were sentenced to death. Attempted rapers were given a choice of death, the wall or having your hands removed. He said nothing, hoping Ned had a plan.

“I’m sorry, did you say...death?” Baelish asked.

“Yes,” Ned said solemnly. “We have no use for men who cannot abide by a code of honor. If he had succeeded in raping her, I would have allowed her betrothed to execute him. However, since he did not succeed, he will be granted the mercy of a swift and painless death.”

“Surely, there must be some way around this. He’s just a boy…” Baelish began.

“A boy who already has one child and another on the way. A boy who tried to  _ force  _ himself on my daughter,” Catelyn said, revealing herself. “A boy who  _ should  _ have been taught better than this. A boy  _ you _ brought into our midst. I ask you to leave at once, Petyr. My nephew may stay a while longer, but I will understand if you take him with you.”

“Please, Cat, I swear I had no inkling of his intentions. I only brought him because he begged and pleaded with me for one look at Sansa--”

“That is  _ Lady Sansa _ to you,” Sansa said in icy tones. “Do  _ not _ be familiar with me. You are my mother’s friend, not mine. The fact that you were the one who brought this person does not make me inclined to think of you as such either.”

“I apologise profusely, Lady Sansa,” Baelish said, bowing slightly to her. “He is a villain, I never should have--”

“Baelish! You cad!” Hardyng cried out angrily. “You dare speak of villainy?  _ You _ were the one who enticed me on this trip.  _ You _ said I would have the most beautiful woman in the seven realms as my wife, if only I could come between her and her betrothed.  _ You _ were the one who pushed me to hurry up and seduce her when Lord Clegane arrived back at Winterfell.  _ You _ were the one who told me you could insure I also become the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North someday.” Several in attendance gasped at the admission. Sandor wondered if Hardyng knew what that sort of actions that promise would entail.

“Harry, be  _ quiet, _ ” Baelish hissed. Sandor slowly slipped behind Baelish.

“No! I’m going to  _ die _ because you wanted more than you could get. You wanted the North, the Vale, the Riverlands, all of Westeros to bow at your feet. The Eryie was just the first stop, Winterfell would have been next, followed by Riverrun and the rest. You plotted to kill Lord Stark as he sat in a prison cell down in King’s Landing, because you wanted Lady Stark as your wife. You  _ thought _ you had succeeded. You wanted Lady Sansa as my wife so she would be properly wedded and bedded when you make her your mistress. You talk to yourself when you think you are alone my lord, and you reveal much.” Hardyng turned to Sansa. “My lady, I would never have let him take advantage of you. I was willing to go along with his plans because I had heard such great things of you, but I would never have let him take you. I apologise to both you and Lord Clegane, I would never have tried anything, never would have come to begin with, if I had known that you were the one that chose him, instead of the other way around.” He turned to Ned next. “Lord Stark, I apologise to you and Lady Stark as well. You welcomed me into your home and this is how I repay you. I accept my punishment, but I refused to do so without making everything known. I refuse to die protecting  _ that man _ with my silence.”

“As well you shouldn’t.” Ned nodded to Sandor, who grabbed Baelish from behind. “Lord Baelish, you are under arrest for crimes against the North and House Stark. Ser Harrold, you will be moved to a tower cell for the time being. Arya and Syrio will escort you.” Once the three were out of the cell, Sandor shoved Baelish inside it, feeling great satisfaction as the cell door clanged shut. “You will be tried for your crimes, but I believe Ser Harrold’s testimony will be more than enough to condemn you. I will send word to the Vale, as well to Queen Daenerys, Regent King Stannis, and Queen Margaery. Whoever ends up responsible for the seven kingdoms, one of them will be wanting a say in your crimes against the crown. Good day, Lord Baelish,” Ned said curtly. The rest of them left as Baelish kept protesting his innocence. Sansa held tightly to Sandor as they ascended the steps to the courtyard. 

Sandor spared a glance at one of the cells closer to the entrance of the dungeon. Theon sat there in deep meditation, nearly naked. He looked better than expected, considering he had been a prisoner for a while now. The septon had been visiting him regularly, and he looked like he was at peace.  _ I suppose the gods can help after all. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spot on, AzraelGFG! :D You guessed the intrigue!
> 
> Sadly, Lothor is not so nice a guy in this one. Maybe he'll be converted to the ways of the North while he spends some time in Winterfell's dungeon. Seems to have worked wonders for Theon. And Harry...he's not as much of a dick. I like to think this is because he knows Sandor will beat him to within an inch of his life if he makes a wrong move. :D
> 
> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 41  
>  Catelyn - 40  
>  Robb - 21  
>  Jon - 21  
>  | Sansa - 18  
>  Arya - 16  
>  Bran - 15  
>  Rickon - 9 | Jaime - 39  
>  Sandor - 34  
>  Theon - 26  
>  Brienne - 24  
>  | Gendry - 22  
>   
> ---|---|---|---


	62. Two Hearts Become One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairs with ch 6 of Companion.

“I know you don’t hold to any gods in particular,” Ned said, “but Cat really wanted to have a ceremony in the sept. Sansa preferred the godswood, but my wife was most insistent on it.” He shook his head as they watched servants go to and fro with decorations across the yard. Sansa was insisting on getting married on her nameday. Sandor found it curious, but didn’t mind.

“As long as Sansa is happy, I don’t care where I say my vows to her.” They had been sparring, trying to get Ned back to fighting health. His stamina and strength had vastly improved since his return, though he still needed semi-frequent breaks.

“When Cat first spoke of Sansa marrying you, I thought maybe she had gone a little insane.” He chuckled, “Not because it was to you, but because it was  _ Catelyn _ who was suggesting it. I had just suggested you as the new lord of the Dreadfort, and was about to suggest that you would be able to ask for Sansa’s hand when she said it instead. I knew she had gotten past her prejudices towards you, but it was still unexpected. I’m glad though. You helped me study and learn to be Lord of Winterfell when Brandon died, and Sansa has been studying with me for a while now, so I have every expectation that you will do well as the Lord and Lady of the Dreadfort. Ah, though, if you’d like to change the name, I don’t think anyone would mind. Dreadfort is so...dreadful.”

“I talked it over with Sansa, actually. During my visit, I worked with the people there, and we completely gutted the castle and the grounds, removing as much of the Bolton influence as possible. They continued the work after I left. Sansa wants to change the name, the colors, everything we can, in order to give them and ourselves a new, fresh start.” Sandor remembered the incredibly long letters Sansa had sent to him, requiring riders to deliver them instead of ravens for a few of them. “She has some good ideas about it. We finally decided on grey and yellow. Grey to honor her Stark heritage, and yellow to acknowledge mine. Our sigil will be a wolf and a dog in unity. Our new name will be Stargane. We both agreed that Clegark may be too close to Clegane, and sounds a bit silly. Autumn Hill will be the new name for the castle.”

“House Stargane of the Autumn Hill. I like it. A branch house then?” Ned asked. Sandor nodded. “Cat will approve.”

Sandor chuckled. “High praise then.”

**********

“Clegane… Sandor...may I speak with you?” Catelyn asked.

Sandor nodded. He was sitting at a table in the empty dining hall, writing more letters. He had half hoped Sansa would find him again, but Catelyn looked like she wanted to say something.

“I...I want to apologize. For the upset I caused over the betrothal. I have already spoken to Sansa and apologized to her. I really did believe it was the right thing to do, but as Ned pointed out, it was completely unnecessary. I’ve spent so much time as Lady Stark, I forgot to be a mother at times, and my little girls have grown up without me even realizing it. You, on the other hand, have been there for them their entire lives, and as Sansa’s shield, you have had the extraordinary opportunity to know her better than anyone else. I should have deferred to your knowledge of her, instead of relying on my expectations. She’s a much more level headed person thanks to you, and I do not worry about her as much when I know she is with you. What I’m trying to say is that it took me a very long time, but I realize now that you are the best match for her. You always have been, as her friend, as her protector, and now as her husband. I can only hope that my other children are as lucky as you and Sansa have been to find each other.”

Sandor caught a glimpse of Arya walking with Gendry and wondered if a king’s bastard would be acceptable to Catelyn. Arya kept her feelings hidden well, but one look at Gendry and it was easy to see the man was hopelessly in love.

“I hope we will be able to go forward in life as allies, even friends,” Catelyn said.

“I know Sansa would like that,” Sandor said with a half smile.

**********

The wedding took place an hour before sunset, when the sept was backlit by the descending sun. Sandor stood next to the septon, waiting anxiously for the doors to open. His new tunic and breeches felt suffocating, though they had fit perfectly just an hour ago. Jory, Brienne, Syrio and Osha stood on his side of the sept.  _ Two brothers, two sisters. Couldn’t ask for better. Lee, wherever you are, I hope you can see this, I hope you can hear me. I found the one woman able to accept me the way I am, just like you hoped, the one woman who looks past the surface and sees the man beneath. She loved your gift, by the way. Said it was like a story, to receive a wedding gift from a long lost relative. _ Harrold Hardyng stood behind them, in support of the marriage and to show his remorse for trying to stop it. Ser Rodrick stood next to him, keeping an eye on the young knight, but Sandor didn’t believe Hardyng would try anything.

His attention was drawn to the opening doors. Ned led Sansa in. Everything else fell away as soon as Sandor saw her. She was breathtaking in her deep grey gown. Her hair was held back in braids formed into a crown, the rest of her locks cascading down her back in waves of auburn red.

“Breathe, my love,” she whispered to him as Ned handed her off to Sandor. “Would not do for the groom to faint when he sees his bride.” He let go of the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and attempted to breath normally.

The ceremony was a blur for him. He said the correct words, if Sansa’s bright smile was any indication, but he was damned if he remembered the details. The cloak Sansa had made for him to wear with their new sigil was wrapped around her shoulders soon enough, marking the end of the ceremony.

They exited the sept, their family and friends following them towards the main hall where the reception would be. He was surprised when Sansa pulled him into a detour. The revelry of the wedding guests was loud and rambunctious enough that they were able to slip away easily. He thought Arya might have noticed them, but she directed attention to herself and Gendry instead of the bride and groom.

He soon found himself in the godswood. “Little bird, what are we doing here?”

She stood before the weirwood. “When I was little, truly a little bird, all I knew was the great strong arms of my protector, his towering height, the sheer ferocity of his will, yet also, I knew his gentle face. The face I have loved since...well, forever, really.” She turned to him. “Sandor, I know I am young, and I will make mistakes, but I vow to be the best wife I can be to you, and continue to love you and support you until my dying day. You may think you were given me as a gift, but I say that it is you who is the gift to me. You have been my best friend for so long, and now you are my husband. I never thought I could be this lucky, this happy.” 

She turned back to the tree, her gaze wistful as she remembered the past. “When I was five or maybe six, Mother told me I could never marry you. Do you remember? I ran to you in the training yard and you tried to comfort me as best you could, never knowing what was bothering me. Mother took me away not long after. About a month later, you and Arya were still worried about me, and I realized that there was no way I could ever keep away from you. That night, I slipped away to here, and I prayed to the old gods. I asked them to find a way to let me stay by your side, no matter what happened.” She touched her hand to the red face of the tree. “I swore that I would remain observant of the old ways as long as I could stay with you. That’s why I wanted to have our wedding here, but Mother is Mother. Do you know why I wanted to marry on my nameday?” He shook his head. “Because it was the day I met you. When I had believed it was an impossible dream, I would tell myself, if it should ever come true, I wanted to marry you on the anniversary of the day we met. Then I found out I met you the day I was born.” She held her hand out to him. “Please, humor me, my love. Let us say our vows once more, where the old gods may see us.”

He took her hand and stood with her in front of the huge tree. If the old gods had indeed answered her prayers, he was more beholden to them than he could even begin to repay. This ceremony was much quicker, and he remembered more of it, but mostly he remembered how lovely Sansa looked in the moonlight and how peaceful the godswood was as a gentle wind rustled through the leaves, almost sounding like a quiet cheer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 42  
>  Catelyn - 41  
>  Robb - 22  
>  Jon - 22  
>  | Sansa - 19  
>  Arya - 17  
>  Bran - 16  
>  Rickon - 10 | Jaime - 40  
>  Sandor - 35  
>  Theon - 27  
>  Brienne - 25  
>  | Gendry - 23  
>   
> ---|---|---|---


	63. The Queen's Summit

The dragon queen was impressive, arriving on the back of a giant black and red dragon. Sandor and Sansa had spent the past three and a half months at Autumn Hill, returning in time to greet the High Queen. Since they were now bannermen of the Starks, Lord and Lady Stargane sat farther down the table then the rest of the family, but close enough to see the exotic beauty that now ruled over all of Westeros. Sandor was amused by how starstruck Sansa became when she saw the lost Targaryen. Queen Daenerys greeted all of the main and minor houses personally, spending an hour or so talking to each, a process that took nearly a fortnight. Sandor had never realized how many highborns there were in Westeros, and then there were the smallfolk to consider. He recognized the many banners, some of the representatives met his expectations, some did not. The Red Viper was everything Sandor expected, and he growled at the man when the Dornishman flirted with both himself and Sansa. He still had mixed feelings on this man who killed Gregor, but he was most decided on the feelings of protectiveness when the flirtation started. Sansa gave the man a gentle, yet icy smile, warning him in her own way to stay away from her husband.

The queen announced the results of her extremely long talk with Stannis. Stannis Baratheon would marry her, joining the Targaryen and Baratheon houses, and become her King Consort. Lady Selyse had died from illness while at the Wall, leaving Stannis a widower. His daughter Shireen was quite taken with her soon to be goodmother, and was often seen at Queen Daenerys’ side. Rickon and Sweetrobin were both very taken with Lady Shireen as well, and when Shireen wasn’t with the queen, the two boys were following her around. Margaery would become Queen Minor, and her son by Robert, Garth Baratheon, was named heir. Stannis was also the consort of Margaery, and any children between them would princes and princesses. The Baratheon line had Targaryen blood, which was part of why Robert had been able to rule as king, and Daenerys had made peace with the current Baratheons. She had stated that if they could forgive her for her father's crimes, then she could forgive them for Robert's. There were rumors that the two queens preferred each other’s company to Stannis’, but he preferred the company of his former Hand and now the queen’s Master of Ships, Davos Seaworth, and was not bothered by it. Sandor wished them all the best, no matter whose company they preferred.

The most surprising thing about the queen’s visit had nothing to do with the queen at all. It was with people who came with her. Bran, Jojen, Meera and Benjen rode with her back to Winterfell, with Hodor dutifully carrying Bran. Along with the Nightwatch, they had been instrumental to keeping the wintery undead from having a place to retreat to as the Queen and her dragons flanked them on one side, and the armies of Stannis flanked them on the third side. Benjen had been found by Meera, his memories gone, surviving on what little he could find in the deep northern woods. They had bonded, it seemed, if the looks between them were any indication. Benjen had since recovered his memories before returning to Winterfell, thankfully.

Catelyn refused to let go of Bran, even when he complained of being suffocated. “Serves you right for running off like that,” everyone heard her mutter. She welcomed back the Reed siblings and thanked them profusely for protecting her son. Ned hugged Benjen nearly as hard as Benjen hugged Ned. Sandor only felt a slight squeezing of his heart at that sight. He wondered what his life might have been like if Gregor hadn’t been such a monster and had been his friend instead, but he only had to feel Sansa squeezing his hand to dismiss the thought. It did no good to dwell on what might have been, and if Gregor hadn’t been a monster, Sandor might have likely never left Clegane Keep and never met Sansa, his soulmate. Their time together as charge and shield, and now as husband and wife, had proven it to him beyond a doubt. Even if they hadn’t married, he couldn’t imagine his life without her.

The Iron Islands’ civil war had ended and a new “king” had emerged, Euron Greyjoy. Victarion, his younger brother, had been sent to court Daenerys in Euron’s name, but Victarion now stood at the Greater Queen’s side as an ally. Euron had declined attending the Queen’s Summit, a decision he soon regretted. Tyrion, Hand of the Queen, and his wife, a Lorathi woman named Shae, had been sent on the back of Rhaegal, the green dragon, to “escort” the Iron King to meet with the Queen. The man’s journey in the grip of the green dragon’s claws left him shaken, to say the least. He quickly bent a knee to the Queen, and swore to never rebel against her again. Cersei was also notably absent from the preceedings, but Tyrion had assured the Stark clan that she would be dealt with in due time.

Sandor was surprised to hear that Catelyn was with child. Sansa had been excited for her parents, but was also a bit saddened, because she had yet to miss her moonblood, despite daily couplings with Sandor. He held her close and reminded her that once they started having children, their alone time would be considerably decreased. She told him that even their offspring wouldn't keep her from him, which made him laugh.

Robb and Jeyne were expecting another child already. Neddy was growing like a weed. He favored neither his mother nor his father in his looks, and was an equal mix of the two of them. Ned was training Robb to someday take over the role of Warden of the North. While he had been acting-Warden, Robb had really done little in the way of actual wardening, which had been left up to Bran, then Sansa, and back to Ned again. 

Lord Commander Snow was legitimized to become Jon Targaryen. Daenerys had pleaded with him to join her side, but his honor demanded that he remain with the Night’s Watch. Now, in front of all of Westeros, she declared him her kin, her nephew, Lord Commander Targaryen, the first line of defense against the things that go bump in the winter. There had been rumors of Jon’s death at the hands of some members of the Night’s Watch, but clearly, that was just a rumor. Viserion, the white dragon, had taken a liking to Jon and to Ghost. He was to stay on the Wall as a member of the Night’s Watch, and had already started building a nest next to Castle Black. It was interesting to see a giant white dragon snuggle around a white direwolf.

Theon petitioned Ned to be given to the brothers on the Quiet Isle. After much consideration, Ned and Robb decided to grant it. A visiting septon named Meribald offered to guide Theon there.

Arya announced that she would be marrying Gendry, and made a request to the Queen that he be legitimized. Catelyn protested it, but Arya told her that she already had one daughter married to a high lord, she didn’t necessarily need another, now that peace was upon them, and that she and Gendry were going to travel to the Free Cities and couldn’t possibly be bogged down with the responsibilities of lords and ladies. “And,” she added, “I’ve already given him my maidenhead, so really, it’s the honorable thing for me to do.” Catelyn just about fainted at that. Daenerys found Arya quite amusing, and granted the request, making Gendry an official Baratheon.

Bran was ready to travel, too. He and Jojen had decided to go explore the world together, past the Free Cities and into the uncharted territory. Hodor would go with them, as well as a few household guards. Catelyn tried to argue with that, but Ned said it would be good for him. Bran and Arya decided to travel together, at least until they got to Braavos, and then would discuss it more there. Once he returned, he would become Lord of the Twins, and bannerman to his uncle, Lord Edmure Tully. Brynden would rule in his stead until that time.

Rickon decided he wanted to stay with Shireen. Catelyn put her foot down on that one, telling him under no circumstance would he be allowed to leave for the capital when he was only ten years old. Shireen, who had grown fond of Rickon, offered to ask her father if she could stay at Winterfell for a while. She loved the snow and was interested in learning more about the North. She had also grown fond of Sansa and wanted to be able to visit with her more readily. Rickon immediately offered to be her escort whenever she wanted to travel to the Autumn Hill. Catelyn shook her head, but said that if King Stannis allowed it, she would not argue. Upon hearing this, Robert “Sweetrobin” asked if he could stay as well. The lords that watched over him, Lord Royce and Lady Waynewood specifically, said that it would be good for him, that he could learn from a fellow Warden. Harrold Hardyng had accompanied Lady Waynewood to the Summit. He had given the Starganes warm greetings, but had kept his distance for the most part.

The Summit ended, most of the nobles bent the knee when first asked. The Starks and Starganes were no exception. The ones that didn’t were given extra time to speak to the Queen on why. Most of those pledged their loyalty after, but the few who didn’t were not killed outright. They were told they would have a year to see how Daenerys did as Queen, and then would be asked again. The three houses in question were minor, names Sandor hadn’t even heard of, and he suspected they were waiting to see if anyone would overthrow the Queen. He also suspected that they would be bending the knee in a year’s time.

Before leaving to King’s Landing, the Queen decided she would deal with Petyr Baelish herself. Sandor was not privy to the conversation between them, but Ned, Tyrion Lannister, and Lord Royce sat with her as Littlefucker spoke his piece. Varys stood in the shadows, as always. He was also a part of the Queen’s court, remaining the Master of Whispers as he had done for every king since her grandfather ruled. Only the Queen asked questions, from what Sandor understood. Baelish was given a death sentence at the end of it. He was smirking the entire time, until about ten seconds before Ned’s blade sliced through his neck, when a man named Lyn Corbray was taken into custody by Lord Royce.

Jaime and Brienne married, much to everyone’s delight. They were going to travel to see Brienne’s father. Jaime had renounced his claim to Casterly Rock, and asked the queen that his nephew Tommen be officially named the heir. "He's a good boy, and without their mother around, he and Myrcella have been doing well there. They have been writing me as often as they can, ever since I was given my freedom by the good Lord Stark. I have every confidence in them." Tommen and Myrcella were present as representatives of the Lannister family. The queen had met with them in the long parade of nobles, and granted the request as she had been quite impressed with both of the Lannisters.

Sandor and Sansa returned to Autumn Hill after a very laborious goodbye with Catelyn, who promised to come visit soon, before her pregnancy became too much for traveling. _Not too soon, I hope._ He and Sansa were still enjoying being newlyweds, and he rather preferred not having his goodmother around. She had either awful or excellent timing, depending on your point of view.

They heard much later on about the queen’s arrival in the capital. Cersei had tried to launch an attack, but it was difficult when your opponent was riding a giant dragon. There was no bloodshed, and the smallfolk had welcomed the queen with open arms. The rule of Cersei had been crushing, and anyone was better by that point. The Unsullied she brought with her had put down the Faith Militant, who had been terrorizing the people left in King's Landing with their strict religious laws, and helped restore order to the city. There had been a lot of bloodshed in that part, but it was said that the Unsullied had orders to only kill if there was no other option. Sandor had a good feeling about this queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 42  
>  Catelyn - 41  
>  Robb - 22  
>  Jon - 22  
>  | Sansa - 19  
>  Arya - 17  
>  Bran - 16  
>  Rickon - 10 | Jaime - 40  
>  Sandor - 35  
>  Theon - 27  
>  Brienne - 25  
>  | Gendry - 23  
>   
> ---|---|---|---  
>   
> In other news, is anyone signing up for GISHWHES? I heard that registration opened up.


	64. Epilogue: 10 Years Later

“Fader.”

Sandor grunted, still mostly asleep. He had barely fallen into bed an hour ago.

“Faaaaa-deeeerrrrrr.”

Another grunt. He heard a huff and then a shuffling of feet that went to the other side of the bed.

“Mudddddeeeeeerrrrrr…” The little voice was much more sad and pathetic as the boy complained to Sansa. She pampered him way too much in Sandor’s opinion. He was her youngest at three years old. Their eldest son Ben was nine, their daughter Millicent was eight, and the twins Lyanna and Edina were four.

Sandor groaned. “Get back over here, pup. Mother needs her rest.” He had kept her up more than half the night celebrating ten years of marriage. More shuffling of feet and the black haired, blue eyed boy was soon crawling under the covers to snuggle up to Sandor’s side. “Why can’t you sleep this time?” he asked his youngest child, Alesander, affectionately called Zan by the family.

“Unt Aya tole astory ‘bout da sha-does en da wawk-kers,” the little boy said mournfully.

“What did I tell you about listening to your aunt’s stories?”

“Ta not do it,” he answered. His lip was protruding in a very sad pout. He reminded Sandor of Sansa when he did that.

“Aunt Arya promised to not tell you anymore stories. Did she break her promise?”

The boy fidgeted. “No…”

“How did you hear the story then?” Sandor already had an inkling, but waited for Zan to admit the truth.

“I lissen when Unty tole Milly en Tora.” Millicent or Milly, and her cousin, Thora, were as much hellions as their uncles Robb and Jon were when they were younger, though Milly and Thora had yet to outgrow it, much like Arya.

“Now you know better, don’t you?” He felt the boy nod against his chest. “Good.”

**********

It was a rare day off, and Sansa worked frantically to get a picnic ready for them to take on their ride. The children were enthralled by Aunt Arya and Uncle Gendry’s stories of their time travelling the world. Gendry had learned many new techniques for metalworking that he was eager to share with the Autumn Hill smiths. Arya had studied various fighting techniques and had already shown them to Sandor. He had been impressed, and while he wanted to hear and learn more, he was also looking forward to some time away from his children. He loved them to pieces, but if he didn’t get some quality alone time with Sansa, he was fairly certain he was going to go mad. He had grown to understand one of the many reasons Ned didn’t back down from Catelyn’s demands to remove Sandor all those years ago was because he effectively gave Ned more alone time with Catelyn. Their children had happily waved their parents off before running after their favorite of their mother’s siblings.

Stranger and Jonquil rode at an easy pace towards the nearby river. It was a favorite spot of Sansa’s, and Sandor was convinced that Zan was conceived there, considering the amount of times Sansa had pushed him down onto the blanket and ridden him to her heart’s (and his cock’s) content when they first discovered the place. Nine months later, Zan was born. Sansa just shushed him when he mentioned it, but she would still blush prettily and kiss him warmly as she remembered.

They were well into eating their lunch when Sansa brought up a topic Sandor had been avoiding. “Milly asked again.”

“She’s too young.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “She’s eight, same age as you. Same age as my father when he was sent to be fostered.” Sandor grunted, making Sansa laugh. “She really wants to do this, and the Lannisters of Tarth are good people. They love Milly and their children love Milly. Osha and Maryen will accompany her.” Osha had shown up at Autumn Hill when Sansa was first pregnant with Milly, with a five-month-old baby on her hip, and had become wet nurse and then friend to their daughter. Her own daughter, Maryen, was as sweet as Osha was brash, and was Milly’s best friend and maid. When he asked her who the father of Maryen was, she had said he was the best fuck she had ever had, and she hoped to be able to convince him to come to Autumn Hill the next time she went to Winterfell. Sandor wasn’t sure what to think when she brought Hodor back with her.

“I don’t like it,” he said. Sansa patted his arm and pulled him into a side hug, resting her chin on his shoulder. Everyone in Autumn Hill and Winterfell knew Milly was the apple of her father’s eye. The two were nearly as close as Lord and Lady Stargane.

“I know, I know, but it would be good for her. You were ready to send Ben off, if he had wanted to go, which I’m a little glad he didn’t. And it would give us more reason to visit Tarth. Brienne’s been asking me for a few months. And Mother would go visit her in Tarth as well, so she would be _here_ less often.” That thought was tempting, and he knew that’s why she mentioned it. Catelyn was so accepting of Sandor these days, he sometimes missed when she hated him. His goodmother meant well, but she was overwhelming at times. The only consolation of her visits was that she would bring Sansa's youngest sister Cynda to play with Ben and Milly, and Ned would come along when he could to go hunting with Sandor.

“Should’ve asked for the Twins instead of Autumn Hill,” he muttered. Sansa laughed and kissed her husband.

Sandor sighed heavily. Their daughter had Sandor’s hair, eyes and strength, but looked more like Sansa in every other aspect. “How about we give her one year? Just one. If you still have reservations, we’ll bring her back home.”

He kept silent.

Sansa stroked his cheek. "What are our house words, my love?"

"Together We Stand." It had been his idea, and he was rather proud of it.

"How will Milly learn to honor our house words if she is not allowed to stand on her own for a while, to explore this world and learn new things?"

Sandor sighed again and lay back onto the blanket. Sansa nestled at his side. The clouds were floating lazily by as he watched them. “One year. Exactly one year.”

Sansa kissed his ruined cheek. “She’ll scream with excitement when she hears and give you the biggest hug.”

Sandor merely grunted. Sansa laughed and sat up. “What are you doing, wife?”

She gave him a coy smile and reached for the laces on his breeches. “You are overdressed, my lord. I am going to unburden you.”

“Fucking hells, I married a lusty woman,” he said, but he was grinning.

“Only for you, my love. Only for you," she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages (More or less)
> 
> Ned - 52  
>  Catelyn - 51  
>  Robb - 32  
>  Jon - 32  
>  | Sansa - 29  
>  Arya - 27  
>  Bran - 26  
>  Rickon - 20  
>  Cynda - 10 | Jaime - 50  
>  Sandor - 45  
>  Theon - 37  
>  Brienne - 35  
>  Gendry - 33  
>  Osha - ??  
>  Maryen - 8  
>  | Benjin Stargane - 9  
>  Millicent Stargane - 8  
>  Lyanna Stargane - 4  
>  Edina Stargane - 4  
>  Alesander Stargane - 3  
>  | Robb & Jeyne's children:  
>  Eddard Stark II - 12  
>  Theo Stark - 11  
>    
>  Arya & Gendry's child:  
>  Thora Baratheon - 7  
>    
>  Rickon & Shireen's children:  
>  Alys - 3  
>  Bartal - 2  
>    
>  Brienne & Jaime's children:  
>  Lukas - 10  
>  Stella - 8   
> ---|---|---|---|---


End file.
